Coup D'etat
by hellsdescent
Summary: **Sequel to Raison D'etre**Dean, the King of Hell, is gone, sacrificed himself to save the world from Lucifer's clutches. His death leaves a hole in the lives of all who knew him. Castiel and Sam are determined to raise the lost King from the deep abyss of the ninth circle in hell where Dean's soul has been for nearly ten years.
1. The Road So Far

**A/N: So this is the first chapter to the sequel of Raison D'etre. If you're unfamiliar with that story, that is fine, this chapter will serve, in its own way, as a recap of what's transpired so far.**

* * *

Your eyes try to adjust to what you're seeing. A pale face. Several lights seem to stand out for you. It's almost blinding. It feels like you haven't used your eyes before. You blink several times in hopes of some type of adjustment, and that helps very little. There's shapes in the darkness. Two, one much closer. They seem to be inspecting you. They can see you regaining consciousness and one of them call out a name in the most gentle voice you have ever heard.

You realize that this is your name. There seems to be a haze in your mind that prevents you from recalling much. What's below you feels solid and cold and rough. Your mind names it concrete. The bright lights you see come to you as stars and the darkness behind them is part of the night. You don't know where this information comes from: Your name, the details of your surroundings.

But it's just there. And yet you don't know much else.. The face before you begins to clear, however. Another piece of information clicks into place. This person. He's the most beautiful being you've ever beheld. You love him, even though you don't know him. His voice as he says your name brings you comfort, fills you with emotions that you cannot even name yet. But you sense for sure that in his hands, nothing can hurt you. You are safe.

He helps you to your feet. You're unstable and you almost stagger. But he catches you, supports you with care as he carries you away. It's on his shoulder that keeps you from keeling over. You're that exhausted. The second person comes in clearer view and you find you don't feel the same attachment as you do to the first person. His face and head is covered by a hood regardless. The one who holds you is the only one you care for. His name is clear in your mind. But you don't say it, for fear you might be wrong. You want him to say it...No doubt he's going to explain everything.

He assures you of that as he takes you to a small building. It's a place where people eat late at night. There's several brass counter-tops where a few patrons are sitting. It must be late. They don't look at any of you guys. And you don't care to keep your gaze on them long. The main focus is the man who brought you here as he slides you into a booth and takes a seat in front of you. You don't even care for what he orders. You just want to listen to this man.

If he can be called such. He's so beautiful. And that's a weird trait for a male isn't it? Yet, there's no other word to describe him. His eyes are intense as he looks upon you. He has some information, he says. Things you need to understand.

First things first, you're a demon.

The title is weird for you to understand. Like it's got some grim meaning behind it. Yet it fits your criteria. He explains a demon is a being from Hell that was once human but killed by one of tainted spirit and brought back to life after the murder. With some hesitance, he admits he killed you. Frankly, you're not even mad at him. He must have had his reasons, right? He's quick to explain that it was something that was very necessary. Now he wants you to know why.

About ten years ago. There was an incident that changed the entire world. Demons weren't known for making their presence known or traceable on the mortal plane. But the king of hell decided it was time to take earth as his own. He targeted a heavily populated city and destroyed all it's inhabitants, covering them with a magical barrier to prevent outside intrusion. It was a massacre. Thousands of lives were lost. When everyone thought that the king was simply making a gesture of war, he had not finished. He resurrected the ones he had killed from the abyss and created in turn, countless demons to unleash their power on the innocent.

What was this King's name, you ask?

Your maker smiles at you in understanding, gently nodding as he gives the name. The king's name is Lucifer...Once the most beautiful creature in all of creation.

Only a handful decided to resist Lucifer, and they were killed in the aftermath. Even Michael, the strongest angel in existence was destroyed by Lucifer in the final battle. But there was one being who stood a chance to stop him. A demon that had gone rogue. The king had collected this soul from Earth when the demon was still a human infant. He had raised him, loved him like his own and called him his prince. But the child was not satisfied with taking the throne after Lucifer. Even when Lucifer concocted a series of events leading to his own demise to throw his prince on the verge of mad revenge, the prince did not yield to the darkness in his heart.

The prince knew very well his own realm despite the fact that he did not wish to rule it in the way that his father wanted. Hell is divided into nine circles. Pride. Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Wrath. Heresy. Violence. Envy. Treachery. The ninth circle, Treachery was the deepest, darkest pit of hell known as the abyss. It was said that this circle of hell was a hell even in hell. There was no escape from the ninth circle. And no one yet lived to recount what resided there. So the stories and legends had said. The prince knew that this was the only place he could keep Lucifer without killing him. For despite all his rebellion, the prince still loved his father too much to end his existence himself.

Lucifer had created a cycle. He had a fashioned a vessel on Earth to release his power should the need come. As fate would have it, it was the Prince who helped bring the vessel to release this power. Since the first vessel was created, the cycle would continue. Lucifer would always live.

Through the help of an Archangel by the name of Gabriel. The prince was able to create a portal to the ninth circle. He lured his father there, bested him in a moment of weakness and threw him down to the pit. However, the portal, or as we call it, dimensional door did not close. Dimensional doors do not close or open until payment is received. The prince knew that this door would only expand and consume and that the injury he inflicted upon Lucifer was only temporary.

It required all of Lucifer. Lucifer had forced his imprint upon the Prince through a Linked bond. And though the Prince may have broken it, he knew that with the powers of the king he could allow his soul to be reaped into the ninth circle and use the power to seal the portal closed with something called the Dark Element. This element could only be created or destroyed by the king, and before Lucifer fell, it was the prince who held the throne.

Michael...and the King had died. The two powers for Heaven and Hell were gone. So the world was thrown into chaos. While mankind still thrived as the dominant race on the planet, there were more demons then there ever had been, sired by the deceased Lucifer.

Many deaths followed from there and many more demons were created. But they did not conquer the land as many believed they would. Demons of Imperial-Class took on mortal form and walked among mankind. Without a strong leader to hold the crown, there was no control of them.

Now you ask the main question that's been burning on your mind. This being. This prince. Or rather, the king... Who was he? Truly, he must have been a hero to fight against odds and turn against his father despite everything.

He answers you and his voice is subdued. The prince's name was Dean. Simple. Not very frightening sounding at all.

But now he leans closer to you. You have a feeling this was why he brought you here. Not really to give you a history lesson. A world without order is not a world at all, he says. To bring balance back to the universe, the king must return. Hell was forever ruled by a monarchy. Destroying it destroys the balance. There must always be balance.

He created you for the purpose of journeying into the ninth circle to retrieve the king.

But, you start, uncertain. But isn't there no escape from the ninth circle? Didn't he mention that?

Yes, he confirms. There is no escape. But he may have found a way. He goes on to tell you that he spent the last ten years trying to find a way. Now, there's a chance he might be able to get into the realm and escape. You're to come with him.

Fear fills you and now even the assurance that he's coming with you doesn't help. Why are you coming along if no one's ever escaped?

Because you're a demon, he says. And a demon has power. There is power within you in the form of what we call Will. Will power is determined by the strength of mind inside the individual. What humans would call magic is drawn from Will. Elements can be influenced through those infused through Will. Recently, demons discovered that draining Grace, or what they call the Immortal Flame from angels doubles their magic power and targeted those from the celestial realm to gain power.

And a demon has chance in a realm like hell since you're origin is from there.

You're still skeptical. But you can't argue. His voice seems to broker no arguments. You have trouble resisting his request. Or could it be a request when it feels more like an order?

Finally, you ask the question that you should have asked earlier. Really, it was silly to think you may have gotten it wrong.

You ask him his name and he gives it to you with a wry smile.

"Castiel."


	2. Devil's Territory

**Lawrence, Kansas- One Year After Attack on Manhattan**

* * *

One year ago today was the day everything changed. The attack on Manhattan destroyed millions of lives and left the city in ruins. The humans were calling it a freak earthquake that wiped out the inhabitants. It was lucky for them the ground shook that day. But since when are earthquakes violent enough to topple skyscrapers? Since when was a city wiped out of all it's inhabitants? If the humans were blunt enough to think it was an earthquake...why not something even more realistic like a volcanic eruption? At least even this would be more realistic then the truth.

That the devil rose from the ground riding on rock made in Hell and absorbed the souls of everyone in the city and become all powerful.

But he was bested by his "son", Dean.

Castiel could barely think of the name. Dean was gone now. Dead. He had been for a long time. Every year that passed on Earth, another hundred passed in Hell. He had buried the body where Dean's parents graves were in a cemetery in Lawrence, Kansas. He doubted even Dean knew where he had come from. But it was here where it all started...at least for Dean. Dean Winchester. The surname given by his parents...John and Mary.

And now he was dead. He deserved a lot better.

Castiel didn't honor part of Dean's last wish. Keep Sam safe. Let him forget all this. Let him forget he knew any of us. Well, he was honoring the first part. Not a day had gone by that he didn't visit Sam, see how he was situated in his new family. He never knew Castiel was there of course. He couldn't find it in him to erase Sam's mind of everything that transpired.

He loved Dean. He loved him so much that even now, one year later, he still made prayers every night hoping to see him. Taking away his memory would be a cruel fate indeed. Since Castiel was always nearby, he picked up on these prayers. His foster family was decent. It was a big favor to sway their minds into taking a then ten year old Sam with a colorful memory. Even if Sam didn't voice his experiences, his eyes told the entire story. Castiel may have had a hand in changing their minds. They both had steady incomes and were pretty adamant believers in the Christian faith. They, like the rest of the world believed that an earthquake shook up Manhattan and everybody involved in it simply moved out of state.

Quite a fast evacuation for an earthquake. But he wasn't going to argue. Whatever delusions the humans wanted to live in, he was fine with. As long as the truth wasn't out.

Heaven was in its own disarray and Balthazar had taken over as acting General issuing out tasks to wipe out demons while on border patrol. Balthazar knew better than to keep Castiel too busy. The angel had left Castiel alone for the most part. Aside from paying his respect to Dean and keeping an eye out for Sam...He was here for another reason.

There was someone here. He was here almost every night...but the past few weeks, another was frequenting this graveyard. Not unheard of that there were looters or people with a fascination for the dead. But Dean's grave top was not empty. Flowers of various kind were strewn everywhere. This person was coming to this grave alone in particular...He knew Dean. Somehow.

And yet he or she was choosing times when Castiel was not around. Not tonight. He had enough, and lucky for him, the remnants of the legion weren't in immediate trouble that required his aid. He would find out who this stranger was...and what business they had here.

When night came, he took refuge in a nearby tree. The high branches provided ample cover and he knelt on a particularly thick one watching and waiting. From here, he was about a hundred feet from Dean's gravesite and he had a very clear view of it.

As he expected, the stranger was there. Right at the stroke of midnight. Time meant nothing to an angel like Castiel, so to him, it felt like no time at all when this being appeared. It was a strong build. A male. He was dressed head to toe in black with a hood covering his head and a black shawl covering half of his face. Even with enhanced eyesight, Castiel had trouble discerning what features of this stranger he could from here.

Another pile of roses added to Dean's grave. Who was this guy? Castiel drew out a sword as silently as he could from a sheath underneath his coat. Dean had once taught him what kind of clothes to wear to blend into human society, but he would never be above carrying his weapon. Not while the world was in this state. The tan overcoat and suit provided ample cover. The stranger was turning to leave now and Castiel jumped down from the tree.

In the same second, he held up his sword towards the stranger. A flash of lightning issued from the end of his sword to the figure but it was too minuscule a spell to be considered an attack. The lightning hit the ground and ignited a perfect circle of golden flames around him. Inside the circle, a symbol seemed to activate in call to the fire. A five point star with a symbol indicating all seven deadly sins.

Trapped, the stranger was immobile inside a circle. Castiel wasn't sure what he was. But the pentagram would hold a demon and the fire would hold an angel.

As Castiel drew closer, the unmistakable sound of a chuckle escaped his prey.

"What are you doing here?" Castiel circled him.

"Do you always greet people this way?" The man asked. His voice was rich with age, though from what Castiel could draw from his dark eyes was youth. A demon. Imperial-Class at least.

"No, only poachers," Castiel replied. "I will ask again. What are you doing here?"

The man took a glance at the flames. "Do you usually defile graveyards with traps for the visitors? Is it a hobby of yours?"

"One more time. What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, Celestial. Paying my respects to the dead. Is that so wrong?" He followed Castiel with his eyes, but when the angel went behind him, he faced forward, hands up. "More specifically, paying my respects to my king."

"It's been one year and not one demon, not even Imperial has come here to 'pay respects' ," Castiel air quoted. "And now you come out of the blue to pay respects? As far as I'm aware, there's a perfectly good monument to the king in your realm."

"Imperial Class demons are self-serving wretches who would sooner impale themselves than pay respects to a dead relic," The stranger said. His hands...He wasn't surrendering at all. The glowing pentagram, the trap begin to crack in the earth until it was just a jaded bunch of red. No demon, not even Imperial had the power to do that. "Luckily, I'm not one of them. Regarding the monument in Hell...That's of Lucifer. I'm not paying respects to my brother. I'm paying respects to my nephew, you dig?"

Yet the fire remained intact. Castiel's face darkened. "Fallen."

The stranger reached up and pulled on the black scarf covering his face. He was very handsome, as most angels, fallen or not, were. His lips were full and sensual, his eyes in the fire showed brown, almost black pupils. He had short black hair that was thinned as if wet with some strands loose on his forehead. Like Dean...Like the demons before him, his clothing of choice was a dark ensemble of boots, jeans and a leather jacket over a thin t-shirt.

"I prefer Dante..., Castiel," said Dante. "Now if you please. The holy fire? It'd be quite a story to tell about getting sunburned at night...So why don't we just tone it down and talk for a minute? I don't mean you any harm."

Castiel didn't lower his weapon. "Why should I believe you? Fallen don't talk to Loyalists unless they're trying to kill them."

"You're hardly loyalist...and I have something to discuss with you. C'mon now. It's hot and I've been waiting for weeks for you to grab the balls to talk to me," Dante pulled back his hood and crossed his arms just as Castiel stopped in front of him.

"Oh, so you're not paying respects, are you?" Castiel glowered. "You know, I think I'll keep you right where you are. You can talk to me, and I'll listen."

"Very mature, Castiel. In the meanwhile, why don't you buy some marshmallows and put on your short shorts?"

"I'll pass on that, thank you. Now you will answer my questions. Why-" But he was cut off by the sound of a revving engine. It was definitely past midnight, yet there was a huge black truck parked near the cemetery gates. The lights flashed in their direction twice to show they had been found.

"Abductors," Dante muttered like it was an expletive. His eyes flashed to Castiel in near panic. "Listen, douse the flames. Fast. Quickly! Before they come over here."

Castiel extended his senses. "They're human...and we're poaching. I can talk them away."

"No, you can't," said Dante. "Yes, they're human. But they work for hunters. Hunters capture and kill demons." When Castiel looked at him in some surprise, he continued. "What? You think the humans haven't learned to fight back? You think Manhattan was the first sign of demon invasion? Listen, these guys are ruthless. They have weapons...devices...that can detect your body heat. If it's too high or...in your case, too low."

"I have nothing to fear from a human," said Castiel dismissively.

"You're restrained by rules. You won't kill them if they try to kill you. And they will. They'll definitely find you and me some interesting specimens. Douse the flames! You have to trust me!"

Castiel gave him a hard, skeptical look. He glanced the way of the truck and saw that they were coming out of the truck, busy in the back unloading. Then he blocked his view of the humans, slowly raising his hand over the ring of fire and letting it die down until it disappeared. Nothing appeared disturbed when he was through.

Dante came up next to Castiel, hands in his pocket, attempting to appear casual. "Let me do all the talking. Whatever you do, do not drink _anything_ they offer you."

What an odd request. "Let me guess, it's poison?"

"It's Stigma. If you consume it, let's just say, you'll be thrashing about on the floor if you're don't have normal body temperature," said Dante, drawing out a silver flask. "This is just water. We'll use it as an excuse."

"It's still not too late to just fly away, Dante," Castiel pointed out.

"By all means, Celestial. Pull out the wings and show them how angels exist coexist with demons on their turf," said Dante sardonically. "Next, you'll see they'll be chasing your kind instead of mine."

Still skeptical, Castiel watched as they approached. He adjusted his coat more over himself so that his sword was hidden. Dante's was hidden on his back he was sure, there was no other explanation for that bulge underneath his jacket. There was four of them in total. Maybe five or six if two remained in the truck. Like Dante and Castiel, whatever they had brought was stowed away inside their clothes.

They looked like normal humans. One, in fact looked like a lumber jack with a red and white plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tight blue jeans with brown boots. He had long brown hair and a beard. Down from the country by the look of him. He chewed tobacco and spit it out with a loud sniff when he was near. The other three dressed just as odd. One wore a black business suit and had slicked blonde hair. Another had on a t-shirt and black Adidas track pants on. And the last wore a simple white and black striped shirt and jeans. It was like seeing all forms of attire on men, ever. Working, Casual and workout wear.

Later, Castiel would realize they were doing the same thing Dante and him were doing: blending in.

"You boys normally trespass around graveyards at night?" The lumberjack asked.

"We're visiting a friend. He died today...My brother here," Dante smoothly indicated Castiel. "Was eager to see him before opening hours. I couldn't deny him."

Lumberjack chewed tobacco loudly before speaking and looking at Castiel. "That a fact?"

"It is," said Castiel almost defiantly. "The gravekeeper doesn't come until sundown, I figured what harm would it be if we came to pay respects a little early."

"It's awfully late," said business suit. They didn't know their names and he was pretty sure neither Dante nor he cared to find out. Might as well acknowledge them based on what odd attire they were wearing in their group.

"Yes, it is. But I didn't want to make the little shrimp cry so I figured we'd be in and out,"

"As a matter of fact," Castiel interjected. "We were just leaving."

"Were you?" said track suit. "There's been a lot of odd happenings in this town. Electrical storms cutting the power...Farms goin' dead because of crop failure...Figured we'd make it a point to patrol late at night."

"You can't play crime watch because of odd weather patterns. That's absurd," Castiel pointed out.

Dante kicked Castiel's heel. " Haha...My brother. Always so observant."

Lumberjack looked at him coldly. "You'd be surprised. What's your name?"

"My name is none of-"

"His name is Cas. I'm Dante. We really should be going," said Dante, taking Castiel's arm. "We got a long way to go."

They turned, and Castiel couldn't believe his luck. They hovered around Dean's grave and that was less than comforting, but if they were as terrifying as Dante seemed to imply, then Castiel was simply glad to get away.

"Hold up for just a second," One of them called out.

So much for luck. Dante's hand wrapped hard around Castiel's wrist. "Don't...say a word."

Dante turned around. "Come on, guys. We'll pay the trespassing fee if there is one. But we just want to get home."

Lumberjack was coming towards them. "You said you came a long way. Hate to leave a neighbor hanging. We got food in the truck. Forgot my manners. You guys hungry?"

He was all sweet now and lacking suspicion, and that was suspicious by itself.

"We're fine," said Dante politely. "Thanks for offering."

"I insist," said Lumberjack persistently. "Come on over, guys. We're all night owls here. May as well stay up together, aye?"

His tone was equally polite but there was edge to it. He or his friends must have told him to get Castiel and Dante to agree at all costs.

Saying no would sound suspicious.

But Dante clearly had other plans. Raising his hand, his raised two fingers and his thumb as though he was gripping an invisible force. His sleeve rolled back just slightly and Castiel saw the marking "IX" on his wrist.

"Richard," Dante's voice was soothing as though he was comforting a child. "Richard. There's nothing suspicious about us. There is absolutely no need to conduct your tests. Upon further inspection, you realized there was nothing amiss about the two of us. We were just in the wrong place, wrong time. It was just a common mistake. Just a common mistake. Just a common mistake."

The more he said it, the deeper the words seemed to impress upon the man's head. Hypnosis? Hardly. He was influencing his mind, taking it over. Fallen had power no one could ever imagine. If the Imperial class demons who masqueraded as humans were considered demons, then he shuddered to think what Fallen could be considered. Truly, Fallen were the worst spawn Hell ever produced or tainted, rather. Because these were loyalists at some point and they answered to God before answering to Lucifer.

"Just a common mistake," Lumberjack Richard repeated slowly in a low mumble. He scratched his head. "You're right. I don't think there's anything to worry about with you two. I'm uh...I'm sorry for taking up your time. You two take care, all right?"

Dante dropped his hand and watched him walk back to his comrades, casting confused looks at the pair of them.

"You influenced his mind," said Castiel. "That's forbidden even by Hell standards. Rule number one for both sides is never to interfere with free will."

"That's subjective when lives are on the line, Castiel. Demons break that rule every day when they create other demons. You think any human soul willingly jumps the gun becoming a demon? No. Not once. Now, hurry up. Any second now they're going to realize the kid's brainwashed and chase after us with stakes and shit," said Dante, pulling Castiel into a fast walk as they blended into a forest not too far from the graveyard.

Castiel wrenched his arm free and stood back as soon as they were clear. "Brainwashed. Exactly. I don't work with Fallen."

"You worked with a demon just fine," said Dante coolly. "Several, in fact. You...actually were instrumental to the halt of the apocalypse one year ago, am I right?"

"You seem to know a lot about me, Dante," Castiel remarked. "My name...My affiliations."

"I know enough...I know you were there when our beloved ruler fell into the pit. And again, I'm not talking about Lucifer. The Prince. CEO. King, if you're feeling dramatic. I know you dragged his body to this spot and buried him in that cemetery. What you didn't care to notice is...He's not dead."

"What are you talking about? His soul was pulled out of his body. I saw _that_ happen, in case you weren't aware. He's dead."

"You saw a soul dragged out of its body and pulled into Hell. Clearly, you're not familiar with demon physiology. Demons turn to ash when permanently killed. There wouldn't be a body to drag into a grave if he was ash, now would there?"

"What are you getting at?" Castiel all but snapped. "That what, Dean's alive?"

"The body is alive. It has a beating heart and a pulse. Did you not check for that?" Dante asked, then finished. "No, by your face, I assume you didn't. Do you know why that is? Because he's not dead. No soul goes willingly into the pit. Every being in the ninth circle was banished there by either Lucifer or Dean...and Dean and his loving father are the only beings that entered the realm without being banished. Therefore, once we return the soul...Prince Charming wakes up and all is well again."

It took Castiel a few moments to digest this. A live body...He had never heard such a thing. By now, enough time had passed for the body to have decayed. The body was alive and kicking? He didn't know why, but he had a wild idea to go back and check...See for himself.

"Why are you telling me this?" Castiel asked. "Why are you telling me that we need only return his soul. He's dead, Dante. For all intents and purposes, that body will never walk and talk again without its soul. So how can we possibly get it back from that realm if there is no escape from it? How can we possibly even get there? I know not the spell to create a portal. The only ones that do are Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and I assume Dean since he created one. They're all either dead or missing."

"First off, darling...A dimensional door is not the only way into the ninth circle. Dean himself banished hundreds of demons and Lucifer condemned hundreds of lost souls into the ninth circle. Don't worry about the way in. There's always a way in...A way out is what should concern you," said Dante, leaning back so all of his weight fell on his back leg. "Lucky for you...You're in the presence of someone who's been there...done that."

"You've been to the ninth circle," Castiel stated.

Dante rolled up one sleeve to show the tattoo in the moonlight. Again, Castiel's eyes focused upon the black "IX" on his wrist in enhanced view.

"You escaped," Castiel murmured. "How?"

Dante pulled his sleeve over the mark. "That's not the right question, Castiel. The right question you should be asking yourself is, how far are you willing to go to get him back?"

Castiel opened his mouth and then closed it, locking his jaw and looking away. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I'm _not_ asking you. _You_ should be asking you," said Dante, casually leaning against a tall tree and drawing out a cigarette. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I'm saying it's going to be hard as fuck. It's going to take _time_. One year is nothing to an angel, but a lot to a trapped soul being tortured to mutilation every passing day, don't you think?"

His words made Castiel flinch. Of course he had thought about that. Of course it passed his mind every waking hour. And he never slept. "What would I have to do?"

A slow smile spread across Dante's face in the shadow as he pushed out some smoke through his teeth. "Forget. You'd have to forget everything you know. You'd have to sacrifice everything. There is no passage into the deepest of Hell for someone in your state. You're not ready. You're not nearly ready. But you could be...with guidance of course."

All of Castiel's doubts returned. "And I suppose _you'll_ be the one guiding me? And I suppose this comes at no cost to you."

"Hell no. Literally," said Dante. "You think I'd go back there for free? I'm going back there because I want what you want."

"And what do I want?"

Dante drew closer to him, whispered the word in his ear. "Balance."

Castiel leaned back, away. "Don't stand close to me. I can hardly stand your presence as it is."

Dante laughed. "If you don't believe me, dig up the grave. Pull it out from six feet under. See that breathing, beating corpse for yourself and make your own judgment."

"Maybe I will," Castiel lifted his chin in defiance. "Maybe I would not for you. Maybe you're just like the rest: another deceptive, lying Fallen angel with nothing better to do than torment a soldier."

Dante put up a fake pout of his lips. "Am I tormenting you, Castiel? That's so sad. C'mon. Give yourself some credit. Your boy needed some incentive to do what he did."

Without another word to Dante, Castiel traced his path all the way back to the graveyard. He passed the tree he had taken refuge in before and found himself at Dean's grave. The humans weren't there any longer. Gone perhaps now that they were confident that Castiel and Dante wouldn't be returning. In no time, he found himself standing before Dean's grave, stopping dead. The name was bolder than usual, shadows dancing over the letters in the moonlight.

He took a step back when he had cleared enough distance.

Castiel snapped his fingers and from the depths the black coffin tore from beneath the headstone, hovering a few feet in the air. He dropped it on flatter ground and stepped towards its foot, opening the coffin with another snap of his fingers.

What he found made him step back in shock.

"You said..."

Dante crept up next to him. "Huh." He stepped around the coffin to the side where he inspected the side. "Fingerprints. Human. Dents in the wood. Opened by force but not by hands. Crowbar maybe. Hmm...Lock's been tampered with."

"You lied to me,"

Dante held up one finger. "No, I said he has a heartbeat and a pulse and a living breathing body. How was I supposed to know he'd been taken from grave? In fact, you come here more often than I do. Maybe you should be the one questioning yourself."

Castiel trembled with rage. "You took him?"

"Hardly," said Dante, tilting his head to inspect the lock further. "You heard me say human, didn't you? Patrol truck comes by...finds us...Guard duty, maybe. Ensuring no one dug it up...hmm..possible. Waiting for demons maybe...I...underestimated them."

"What, the humans took him? That's impossible unless someone told them what value he is. What have you told them?"

"What have_ I_ told them?" Dante placed a hand over his chest. "Nothing. I don't make it my business to exchange valuable information with humanity, thank you."

"Then, how else would they know where Dean is?! How else would they know he'd be right here?! Why would they take his body?!" Castiel growled. " Maybe you took it. Maybe your Fallen have it, burning it alive for your amusement."

"My Fallen...are for the most part trapped inside the ninth circle, save for the few that betrayed the crown and helped resurrect Lucifer. Those guys, now those guys are dead by now...But that circle should be your only concern for the moment," said Dante slowly as he stood upright. "It's the soul that matters now. Not the body. I was only trying to make you believe me. If it's absence is not proof enough that we should get our asses cracking, then I don't know what is."

"His body is gone," said Castiel through his teeth. "We need to find it."

"We won't find it. It has no traceable signature, no Will left inside it. It's just a heartbeat. Like you said, It's nothing sans the soul,"

Castiel couldn't fight the feeling inside him. Anger coiling with a desperate need to find the body. Dean was dead. The body was alive. That didn't make sense, but if...if the soul could be recovered...then he wanted it to have a home in the form Dean was used to.

"If it's being mutilated...Burned..,"

"Don't worry about that," said Dante.

"If it's been destroyed-"

"Then we'll rebuild it!" Dante shouted, drawing close, tapping Castiel's forehead hard with two fingers. "Piece by piece from your memory. It doesn't matter. The most they'll find from him is a brain dead corpse showing medical signs of life. They can't extract anything from it. Whatever they're planning, just forget about it. We have to focus on getting his soul out of hell. Once it's out, we can reunite the body to it's soul and he can wake up from there. That's all we need to focus on."

"No, you know what? I've had enough Fallen deception to last me a life time. I'm done here," Castiel turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"Where are you going, Castiel? Back to your legion? Back to trying to save the world, one dead demon at a time? You honestly think you'll change anything that way?"

Castiel ignored him, walked faster.

"It's hard to believe he chose you. It's hard to believe...he loved you,"

That stopped Castiel. His foot seemed to falter on its own when he turned just halfway, meeting Dante's gaze. "In all my time knowing Dean, he never once spoke those words."

"And yet you doubt them?"

Castiel blinked and looked away. "He never said it."

"And yet _you_ love him," Dante put his hands in his pockets and stepped towards him. "You love him so much, it's burning you on the inside. You love him so much, that you hate yourself for wishing _even for a second_ that this world be damned for Lucifer's wrathful plan if you could get one more second with Dean. I know you, Castiel. I know you spent hours holding that body for fear it would fade away just as fast as his soul did from the body. I know what he meant to you. "

"Quiet," Castiel snarled. "You know nothing."

"Or I'm right on the button, pumpkin," Dante smiled. "But you'll never know if he'd ever felt the same way, will you, Castiel? All you'll be left with is a faded memory and an empty heart. I know love when I see it. And I know it's not something so easily repeated. Not for us."

"I said, quiet," Castiel curled his hands into fists. A flicker of lightning passed through his knuckles.

Dante was close now, invading Castiel's personal space, just a breath away on his lips. "Forever is a long time to spend by yourself, brother. What would you give to have eternity with someone you love? Hmm..."

Castiel said nothing. The power he summoned began to die from his hands and he let them fall, loose by his side.

"If you change your mind...You need only call my name...I'll be there. I'm _always_ close by," said Dante, side stepping from Castiel and walking past. "Oh yeah, and I'd try to keep a more secure eye on this town. They got Dean. What are the odds they'll gun for little Sammy next? Good day to you."


	3. Balance

Heaven was always a sight to see.

Even while Heaven was at war. Even while the world seemed to burn all around them, Heaven was a sight. Why? Because it seemed to give off at least the illusion of peace. Each soul in Heaven generated it's own paradise. Though this was not restricted to angels. Angels, of all kind always generated the same one. It was Paradise before the fall. Lush fields of flowers, brimming with small animals. Bright blue and pink skies with mountain tops. Ten floating flags circulated the tallest mountain in the clouds, all waving a blue banner. If they were white, it would signify peace...But considering the state of things, the blue banners meant distress.

But still it was definitely a good thing that the banners weren't red. Red meant invasion. And though the demons had increased in numbers significantly, without a strong leader, there wouldn't be an invasion any time soon. Had Lucifer succeeded a year ago, things might have been different.

Rather than remaining inside the generated paradise, Castiel found himself visiting another's heaven. Mary Winchester's. Perhaps it was his own masochistic desires. Mary's ideal paradise was a perfect life with her husband and the son she lost.

He knew that the Dean he saw wasn't real. The mannerisms were all off but he may have had a hand in tweaking his appearance. Mary's dream was accurate for the most part. But minus the scar on his cheek and darkened hair, Dean didn't look quite right.

Dean was overly polite, sweet and an all around innocent soul. He liked Castiel when he saw him, was more than kind. But it was just a dream...Nothing real. Nothing that affected the true state of Dean.

While he watched, the family was celebrating Christmas inside a snowy house. John was giving Dean his first car and Dean was ecstatic. They looked like an all around happy family...and it was everything to not join them. Mary's dream generated snow...and it felt real as it hit his face and hands. Not overly cold. Just right. He was sure they'd be going out for a snowball fight soon.

"I thought I'd find you here,"

Castiel didn't immediately acknowledge Balthazar. He stayed by the mailbox and kept his eyes on the family inside without really paying attention to them.

"Why'd you think that?" Castiel asked.

"You know why," said Balthazar simply.

It felt intrusive to be here with Balthazar. Those generated in Heaven weren't real but they acknowledged angels as they would people. Realistically. Right about now, the Winchesters would think they were trespassing, even though Castiel had already met them a fair few times.

" I needed to speak to you," said Castiel, tearing his eyes away from the family and turning around. As soon as he started walking away, the heaven began to dissipate and realign into a flower field that Castiel was more than familiar with.

"So do I. Where have you been?"

"I was held up," said Castiel shortly. "I spoke to someone while on Earth, Balthazar."

Balthazar's face darkened somewhat. There was a new rule in Heaven to not make themselves visible to any inhabitant on the mortal realm. Too much had been risked a year ago. And it was too dangerous for what angels remained considering every demon that walked the earth wanted them dead.

"Did you. You know the rules, Castiel. You know I can't keep covering for you every time. I may run things on a temporary basis, but that doesn't mean other angels don't have a say," Balthazar sighed. He was a good friend to him. In the past, Balthazar was there when everything was on the tip of the iceberg. He was fair. Always fair. Not too long ago, Castiel and Balthazar had fallen behind Raphael who had gone rogue. It was Balthazar's idea to "rebel" somewhat. To turn against him and fight.

"I'm not asking for you to cover me," said Castiel. "Though all things considered, I think you have much more on your plate than one angel not reporting for patrol on time."

"Very well," Balthazar conceded. "To whom did you speak?"

"A Fallen," Castiel saw Balthazar begin to protest and he held up his hand. " Please understand me.. He had a few...interesting things to say."

"You spoke with a Fallen," Balthazar repeated in an empty voice. " Tell me you didn't divulge too much."

"What is there to divulge? Our master plan against the scourge of demonkind on the mortal plane? Doesn't look like we're doing much to stop that. I just spoke to him. Rather, he spoke to me...Left me a little confused,"

"Not surprised. Fallen don't normally play nice with our kind," Balthazar remarked. "That's not even a lie. It's always a sick cat and mouse game with them."

"He said he knew a way into the ninth circle...and a way out," said Castiel, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"There it is," said Balthazar, nodding to himself. "You're so gullible, Castiel. You think those Fallen don't know what makes you tick? Most of those that were present during Lucifer's rise, know you were there as well. What was the name of this Fallen you spoke to?"

"Dante," Castiel replied, feeling slightly ashamed.

Now he was sure he didn't imagine it. A shadow passed over Balthazar's face at the name. "Dante. You spoke to Dante."

"Why?" Castiel asked. "Do you know him well?"

"To a degree," Balthazar corrected, turning his back on Castiel and stepping forward, seemingly very interested in a rosebud that blossomed knee level as he drew close to it." Dante was...my friend. When he was here. We were..."

"You were close," Castiel surmised.

"Very close...When he was here, he chose Lucifer's path. And I begged him...I begged him not to go, but he didn't listen to me. He was convinced...or perhaps he had convinced himself that Lucifer's way was right. That humans needed to be eradicated in order to pave way for a new world. The look in his eyes. You would have thought he had gone insane."

"So he's crazy," said Castiel. Should have figured.

"He's not crazy," said Balthazar sharply, turning back to Castiel. "He's not. But as a rule, Fallen do not tell the truth. He's been on the mortal plane hiding just like the rest of them for centuries. He knows how to lie. They all do. Dante's an expert at lying. I wouldn't take what he says personally."

"Dean saved the world, Balthazar. He may not have left it in its best state, but he saved us all from a greater evil-"

"Dean did _not_ save the world, Castiel. _Michael_ saved the world. If not for Michael's sacrifice, we would all be dead," said Balthazar. "A demon feeling remorse at the last minute is hardly the savior of the world. You're giving him entirely too much credit."

"You're biased. You don't know him like I do,"

"Like you _did_ know him. You _did_. Past tense, Castiel. He's gone. There's a way in that circle. I know that for sure. A way out? Not a chance. If there was a way out, they'd all have been freed by now. There's a reason the demons themselves use it as a prison for what they even regard as scum,"

Scum. The word stayed in his mind. "Is that what we regard people who save the world?"

"I'm saying it like it is. Don't be stupid, Castiel," said Balthazar. He came close and squeezed his shoulder, lowering his voice. "After all the shit you pulled, any other soldier would have been tried and executed. The old ways are long behind us. We don't exile the traitors. We kill them. All the things you did. Working with a demon, aiding the vessel. If I presented your record to the court of Generals, you'd be dead."

Castiel shook off his grip. "I did what I had to. I believed in Dean to do the right thing and he did it. Now he's dead and the entire world is paying the price. I may not know what's going on in Hell, but I figure with demons running rampant without a leader on Earth, it's not going too well down under either. We're not going to be able to hold this planet for long without someone governing the Hell realm. We need Dean.

"Are you sure you're not confusing 'we' with 'you'?" Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "No offense, Castiel. I went along with you a year ago because I agreed. We had the worst general in the world and he had to be stopped. But now I'm pretty sure you're just wishing Dean was back because you miss him."

He nodded towards the direction where they came, where Mary's heaven was. "You wouldn't be visiting that every time if you weren't still ruled by your sentiment."

"I'm only stating what I think needs to be done,"

"You're stating what you want me to say back to you so you can believe it's true," Balthazar shook his head. "I know you love that boy. And while I may not approve of your choices...I know that he's dead. There's nothing we can do to bring him back. We have a messy aftermath to deal with, Castiel. What I need you to do is help out the best way you can. Patrol. Take care of helping lower the demon populous to the best of your ability. You're one of our finest soldiers, Castiel. I would hate to see you lose your way just because you're going on false leads."

"I'm not going on false leads, Balthazar. I need your help. I'm not even saying we have to work with a Fallen. I'm saying help me figure this out. If there's one thing we can do to stay productive, it's at least trying,"

"I'm not even going to risk it, Castiel. Because even if Dean is down there. Even if Dante is telling the truth. You know who else is down there? Lucifer. And if you think I'm about to dispatch anything, let alone just you, to open door to the ninth circle, you're wrong. You may have believed in him once and it paid off. It did...but I don't think you can believe in him to not have turned already,"

"But-"

"He's already spent one hundred years under the torture and hell that his Father's putting him through, Castiel. What makes you think that he's remotely the same person? What makes you think he hasn't turned into something else. Lucifer's plans were foiled by his son, if there's any avenue for him to let loose his rage and frustration it's pinpointed to the single cause of it all: Dean. If you go down there, all you'll see is a broken soul encased by a broken shell. Save yourself the pain, Castiel...Just stay topside and we'll take care of this, one thing at a time, all right?" He took his shoulder again, squeezed tightly. "Just trust in me, all right?"

Slowly, Castiel nodded. " You're right. I'm sorry. It was a fool thing to do...believing in some superstitious lie. It couldn't be true, you're right. He just said what I wanted to hear and he knew he'd get to me. I'm sorry, Balthazar...for doubting you. For doubting us...and what we stand for."

Balthazar smiled sympathetically, patting Castiel on the back. "Apology accepted. You're not to blame, Castiel. It was Dante's fault for lying...I'm sorry too...for interrupting your time here."

Castiel took that as a dismissal to go back to what he was doing. He gave Balthazar a faint smile before leaving him, reentering Mary's ideal heaven. Dean was out and about this time, the family was sleeping. He supposed Mary's ideal Dean Winchester still smoked because it was nighttime now and Dean was outside smoking a cigarette. It may have been because it wasn't all in her control and he still followed his own personality to a degree.

When he spotted Castiel, he waved. The fact that an angel just walking in from nowhere was not unusual to him was another indicator that this was just a dream. Dean didn't even dress the same. He remembered all black. This one wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans stained with grease. Mechanic. Like his Father.

"Hey," said Dean when Castiel was close enough. "Been a long time since I saw you here. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Castiel answered. "You're out late. Your Mother doesn't know you smoke?"

"She knows," Dean was the same age he had died. Mid-twenties, or so it would appear. "But that doesn't mean she likes it, you know?"

"Yes, I would imagine. It's not a good habit," Castiel chastised lightly.

"Shh," Dean pressed a finger to his lips and grinned.

" I actually came here for a reason, Dean...I wanted to ask you something," said Castiel, looking away from him. Dean's eyes were always so unusually bright and green. Mary hadn't missed that detail.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"If you loved someone. Truly, loved someone...but you lost them...and...if there was a chance you could get them back. Even a shot in the dark, that you weren't sure would pass or fail...Would you go through with it? Would you try it?"

"Well," Dean scrunched up his face in thought. "I don't know...I guess I haven't been in love before. My dad says love makes people do crazy things. But sometimes...You know, it's all you have. I'd be happy to find someone who I love like Dad loves Mom...Or Mom loves Dad. I feel...you know...they'd do whatever they can for eachother. I really can't imagine a world where they don't have one another. I think they'd be devastated."

He couldn't imagine it because he was built that way. But the reality of it all was that the world existed with John, Mary or Dean all dead.

"So you'd do whatever you could, then," said Castiel.

"Well...Yeah...Yeah, I suppose I would," Dean nodded. "Of course I would."

"Thank you, Dean..," Castiel took his shoulder. "I needed to hear that."

"No problem. Hey, you stop by any time you want, all right?" said Dean. "I'd love to talk again."

Castiel's lower lip twitched. "Thank you, Dean...I will. I'll see you around, all right?"

Dean waved his goodbyes and Castiel left. But he wasn't going back to Balthazar or finding another patrol route playing invisible. He had one more place to visit.

* * *

Lawrence was much the same as Castiel had left it. But at least he wasn't visiting the graveyard this time. Instead, the angel found himself before a large two-story house. It was here that the couple of Mark and Estelle Costigan had adopted young Sam. The mother was just putting Sam to sleep when Castiel appeared, getting a clear view of the upstairs window from where he was.

As soon as the lights went off, Sam did what he usually did. He climbed out of bed and went to the window. Where Castiel was standing, Sam couldn't see him.

But Sam's eyes were closed anyway. He was praying out to the stars.

And Castiel heard it.

_"Dear God...I don't know if you can hear me...or if you're even listening to me...But I have a favor to ask. I know I ask it a lot...But it's just one thing. Dean saved my life not too long ago...and I haven't forgotten him. If you could find it in your heart...Please bring him back. I just want to see him again. Just one time. He's...He's really important to me. I just...want..No...I need to see him. I miss him so much."_

What a prayer...Like the boy was saying what Castiel wanted. But it broke his heart to know that he couldn't grant this wish. Of all the things he could provide for Sam behind the scenes. Money for his new family. The best education. But Sam was asking for the one thing that he couldn't provide. Dean.

He hated himself in that moment. Because what option did the angel have now?

"Dante...?" Castiel almost whispered. He cleared his throat and spoke louder, like Sam, speaking to the stars. "Dante? Dante, I need you.'

There was nothing, only a cold gust of wind. A big indicator that whatever encounter he had with the Fallen was just a part of his imagination.

Why did he even bother?

"Don't look up when you pray for a Fallen," said a voice just behind Castiel. There Dante was, not a dream or an illusion. A Fallen. Real as could be, lounging on a large tree branch with his fingers interlocked behind his head. "Look down."

"I didn't pray for you," said Castiel, annoyed. " I called."

"Same difference. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe," Dante shrugged, hopping down and wiping leaves off his front. "So. Looks like you had an interesting day."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Castiel. Truth be told, encountering a heaven-made Dean and hearing Sam's prayer was not what he would count as interesting. Heartbreaking, maybe.

"Ooh, Ooh! Let me guess. You spoke to your commanding officer. What did he say? That I'm a liar?"

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. "How did you know I spoke to-"

"Oh please, you're a good little soldier angel. Why wouldn't you go off and tell on me?" Dante laughed. "Please. If I were you, I'd probably do the same thing. Get some assurance to prove I'm not lying to you."

"Are _you_?" Castiel asked with hard emphasis, stepping towards him. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You called me, Castiel. You don't have a choice. You have a blind shot in the darkness. Now, it's on you to either take it or turn your back on it. I'm not going to hold your hand. I'm offering you this solution because you want this solution," Dante replied seriously. "You don't have to accompany me. I'm going regardless. Hell, I can go right now if I want to...but I think you'd be interesting company. Not to mention, our dear King may need some convincing to reignite his passion for wanting...balance."

"Convincing?" Castiel repeated.

"Any time spent in the worst pit of Hell is enough to change someone, Celestial. If there's a person that can convince dear old Dean to come back to the surface. It's either you or the runt. But I'm not up for convincing eleven year olds," said Dante coolly. "I'm up to convincing you though. But I can tell you're pretty set on what you plan to do. But I wasn't lying...This is going to take everything. It's going to take everything you believe in now and throw it down the tubes. You have to be ready for that."

Castiel exhaled sharply. One look at the house, he saw that Sam was away from the window, back in bed, sleeping soundly...or maybe not if he was plagued by nightmares as someone involved with Dean in the past might have been.

"All right...I'll go with you," said Castiel after a long moment. "Let's do it."


	4. Compromise

It had been one hell of a year for Crowley.

Demons normally didn't follow a set path. Everyone who thought differently, was an idiot. Sure, there were monarchs. Lucifer. Dean. They ruled and people followed orders given and passed down the chain of command. But most of the time, it was because the interests of the ruler also benefited demonkind as a whole.

So why really, was a King necessary?

Why was a monarch of Hell in general necessary? Heaven seemed to be doing just fine staying off the radar without Michael or without God. God. Who even knew where the big guy had been? Michael had been issuing out his own orders for the longest time.

Indeed, a God who let his world be condemned to this made everyone question the existence at all. Still, everything had to come from something, didn't it? Perhaps He was more like the demons the angels hate than everyone cared to realize. He simply did not care.

And He was probably hiding out. Good for him.

If only they could all afford that luxury.

He had just left the California State Prison. Why he was there, what he was doing there was no one's concern. He had been in out of this penitentiary on business for months and no one had stopped him.

Passing through realms was never easy. You had to pass through Dimensional Doors. And they always required payment. Crowley tried to restrict his mortal realm activity so he didn't have to do this so often. But alas, being the acting leader of Hell's army was never easy.

Of course he didn't ask to be the "acting leader". It was simply passed down on him when many demons came to him for guidance. He was older. Experienced. But just because a handful of demons were coming to him now didn't make him King...

But it sure felt like it.

In a short span of time, he had changed Hell. The First Circle was always called Pride because it embodied Lucifer's pride. A fitting title for such an arrogant ruler. It used to have a castle that looked more medieval than sinister. Now, it had a towering building that resembled a corporate building in the mortal realm with over thirty floors. It's not like there was a use for each floor.

But Imperials guarded each floor, each room. It was a good store for the souls that needed to be contained and tortured.

The top most floor was where Crowley went, passing the entrance hall where a towering golden statue of Lucifer was. If it had been up to him, he would have chosen one of Lucifer's less-than-great moments. Maybe while he was having his face trampled by Michael. But Lucifer's statue was a strict form on the throne with his knuckles under his chin, surveying any who looked upon him with promise.

It was a good representation of the old ways and a representation of what would never be again.

The hallway leading up to his office was different. You'd expect Lucifer's exploits at least. But the statue was as far as he went in regards to honoring the old king. Each painting represented Crowley instead. Some even had the title "Crowley, the Valiant" written on golden plaques at the end of them.

His office had more of them. It was a very lavish space with a desk and large leather bound chair in front of a wall-sized window that allowed a perfect view of what was going on below. If anyone was ignorant of where they were..it looked like a normal city was below.

With permanent black skies above.

Crowley kept various trinkets from his travels. Most of these were his own, some of these were not. But his most prized possession was held on a high shelf. Still spotted with old blood, the Sword of the King. This was a special black sword that followed the worthy king. Before he had fallen into the ninth circle, Dean had possession of this sword, but his death gave it to no one. Not even Crowley. It could only be wielded by one of official royal status anyway.

It was very valuable to say the least. Many times during the passing months, Crowley debated selling it to a foolish human who would take it for what it looked like: a relic of an ancient past.

But not yet.

An Imperial entered his office with a serious look about him. "Sir, there's someone here to see you."

"Yes, I figured as much," Crowley sighed. "Angel, right? Send him through."

The Imperial nodded and went back, closing the door. Crowley leaned back in his chair after clearing his desk of any thing that might set off the angel. The angel hadn't changed much for someone who had seemingly been in hiding. Still wearing tan like it was the most popular style and double layers of clothing.

"Ah...Castiel, it's been a long time," said Crowley, letting the chair go back enough that it hit the window.

"I have never previously encountered you," said Castiel.

"No, but I've heard of you. Your reputation speaks for itself,"

"I suppose I should compliment the renovation," said Castiel, stepping inside. He looked around with barely concealed disgust.

"You don't have to, if you honestly dislike it," said Crowley dismissively.

"The castle was made of Dark Element. It's been here for centuries. How were you able to take it down?"

"Just because I cannot destroy it, does not mean it doesn't bend to heavy use of Will," Crowley replied. "I think this is much better than a dingy old castle, don't you think?"

Castiel managed a faint smile. "To each his own."

"Last I heard you were missing in action like the rest of your kind...," Crowley chuckled. "Run away after our king fell into a big..black..hole."

"Shouldn't believe everything you hear, Crowley," said Castiel coolly.

"Take a seat, Castiel," said Crowley, gesturing carelessly to a seat in front of him.

Castiel obliged, pulling it back and sitting down. "You know why I'm here."

Crowley smiled and tilted his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, you know," Castiel corrected, peering at Crowley closely. "You know exactly why I'm here. You're the only power that Hell has...And you're the only one who knows how."

"Elaborate please," said Crowley politely.

Castiel leaned forward in his chair, both hands curled on the ends of the armrests. "I need to get into the ninth circle."

Perhaps he was expecting the power of his gaze to be intimidating. Crowley didn't flinch. He spoke rather easily. "You want to get into the ninth circle. My my. This day just gets better and better, doesn't it?

"Tell me how,"

"You have it easy, Castiel. Simply waltzing in here and demanding the monarch to take you to the ninth circle. Must be nice. I wager you won't get the same treatment the deeper you go into the bowels of Hell," said Crowley.

"You are _no_ monarch," said Castiel coldly.

Crowley smiled wide, unoffended. "Going into the ninth circle. It's no easy task...For someone of your caliber, not at all. You would have to take the long...scenic route, if you will."

"I don't care what it takes, I need to get there," said Castiel.

"Why are you asking me? Ask the one you brought," Crowley raised his head over his view of Castiel. "You can come in, Fallen. I have no wish to apprehend you."

Dante pushed the closed door open and leaned against one side of it, lighting a cigarette and taking a long puff.

"Though, I am curious. As to how you got out. Treachery is a vicious circle that has no feasible escape route. How _did_ you get out of there, Dante?" Crowley quirked an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

"Sea turtles," said Dante.

Both Castiel and Crowley stared at him.

Dante blew out a cloud of smoke. "I'm not even going to even go into that reference because if you don't know it; We can't be friends."

Crowley ignored him and turned to Castiel, reaching into his coat pocket and drawing out a vial filled with dark liquid. "Do you know what this is?"

"No," said Castiel honestly.

"This is demon blood," said Crowley, holding the vial in the palm of his hand. " Poured straight from the vein from a living demon."

Castiel stared at the vial in his hand then back up at Crowley. "Why are you telling me about that? What does that have to do with anything we're talking about?"

"Because I want you to take it," said Crowley simply. "It's an ancient tradition in Hell...They call it baptism by fire. Our young Prince himself went through it. You drink a vial of the blood of the tainted spirit and from there, the darkness consumes you. It gives you the power of tainted Will. In your case, it will simply warp your will."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because," Crowley leaned forward. "You want in that deep, dark...horrible circle. You want in, you're going to drink this potion. The first step to getting into the ninth circle is corruption. You have to corrupt your Grace and become one of us...Or if you're up for specifics...Like him." He nodded towards Dante.

"You don't know if it'll kill me," said Castiel. "If it kills me, then what is the point?"

"It won't kill you, of that I'm sure. Your Grace is infinite. If anything, your Immortal Flame will purge the taint and it will have no effect. And you will be deemed unworthy of stepping into the depths of hell. And I will have no choice but to have Dante escort you out...," Crowley's eyes twinkled. "But I have a feeling there's more to you than meets the eye, Castiel. I'm almost positive this potion will have some effect on you."

Castiel shuffled in his seat. "Why do you say that?"

"You're no saint," said Crowley. "And you know it."

Castiel sighed impatiently, holding out his hand. "Fine. Give it to me."

"So quick to jump into peril," Crowley laughed. "I didn't say do it now...No, you're going to drink this when I deem you ready. You need this potion to proceed. You need it to get to the second circle."

Both Dante and Castiel stared. Castiel with incredulity and Dante kept a perfect mask of boredom.

"That's right, boys. There's no such thing as a free pass. You have to go through each circle one at a time. And earn your pass to the next circle. You want this vial, you have to demonstrate the sin this circle's famous for. Each circle has one of these for you to acquire and sample for yourself."

"And what would that be?" Castiel asked.

"Pride," said Crowley. "Demonstrate Pride and I will give you access to the next realm. Be warned though, this is the only access I give you. Lucifer and his prince may have had control of the nine realms...but I do not. I'm not a King."

"I'll say," Dante scoffed.

"You don't have to worry about Dante," said Crowley, focusing on him. "Dante has access to all circles of Hell. But you. _You_ need to prove yourself. And demonstrate sin to gain access to the lower levels."

"Who heads the other circles?" Castiel asked, ignoring both of them.

Crowley smiled without humor. "Oh, you'll see. It's not going to be easy, angel. You are going to have to make the-"

"Ultimate sacrifice. Skip to the part where I get the damn vial," Castiel snapped.

Crowley interlocked his fingers together and looked to the ceiling. " Dante, direct our guest to the arena."

Castiel looked around at Dante, who remained motionless for a moment before leaning off the side door and stepping inside so as to let Castiel pass through first.

With a long look at Crowley, Castiel stood. "I have no interest in being tricked. I'm here because Dante told me you're the authority to get through to that circle. If you double cross me..."

"I have no interest in betraying you, Castiel. But speaking of treachery, that _is_ something exclusive to the ninth circle. I have no doubt you'll be knocking on those doors in no time. However, I do have very little faith in you getting out. Dante may be an exception for one reason or another, but you won't find it so easy. And considering he's making a return trip," Crowley met his gaze coldly. "It looks like he won't be back here again any time soon."

"You were the King's Guardian, according to Dante," said Castiel. "You have power here only because of that, I wager. Any other demon-"

"Would not allow this," Crowley finished lightly. "I'm being quite lenient with you, Castiel. Another demon would not be so. They wouldn't exactly relish the thought of a loyalist walking into the headquarters and making demands. But as it is, I see your resolve. And I know exactly what you hope to accomplish. As for being the King's Guardian. That is neither here nor there. My guardianship ended when he died. So that is null and void in this instance. I did not choose to rule Hell, much like all of it's previous occupants...but I am doing so because _someone_ has to keep order around this place."

"You made your point," said Castiel, turning to leave.

"Good luck, Celestial. You're going to need it. Head to the arena. Your first trial is there," said Crowley. " I expect I won't be seeing either of you again."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Dante, letting Castiel past him.

"One last thing. I should warn you on the effects of going through the circles of Hell the long way. It is his only way through, but that's not to say it'll be easy for him. Hell is pain and despair all around. But more importantly, it's forgetting. Don't be surprised if the effects start to show on your new...friend, Dante," said Crowley.

"Are you done?" Dante asked in a bored voice, as if none of this mattered to him. In all likeliness, it didn't.

"Yes, you can go now," said Crowley distractedly, turning to the side to open a drawer and withdraw a few sheets of papers. Contracts, more than likely. "Good luck to you."


	5. Waking Up

**Lawrence, Kansas- 2 Years Later**

* * *

Two years ago today, everything in Sam's life changed. Well, if you wanted to be totally technical and asinine about it, maybe a little bit before that. He had met a few people that changed his life. For the better? That was debatable. Estelle and Mark had been concerned for a long time for Sam's mental health.

He was only thirteen years old now. Two years ago, he was naive and stupid to say the least. He depended heavily on the whims of others...But being alone for so long and spending time with people who thought you were insane was a good start in putting things in perspective. Sam hadn't made a lot of friends at the school they had put him in. His actions, his attempts at the truth were scorned and had him put in extensive counseling both outside and inside school grounds. It was enough. He wasn't crazy, and what he was saying was true.

People were so objective. The Costigans claimed to be down the ground Christian and then when someone told them the truth... The_ real_ truth, they were blind to see it. He had said this so many times to his "mother", Estelle. But she never really listened to him. She would pinch her nose in some impatience and then proclaim in a low whisper that Sam needed help. Never said he was crazy, but the implication was pretty clear.

Well, what would you say to a boy that told you demons and angels were real? What would you say when he told you that he had one inside you that used you to take control of the world? That saw through your eyes, that walked with you every step of the way. Then through some gruesome means, he managed to break through his barriers and rise to power. For a short time. He was bested by his adopted son.

Oh yeah, and that guy? That guy's a demon.

And he's dead.

And he has been for a long...time.

You know it'd be so easy to maintain that it was real, if evidence ever came up. But there was no evidence. He had tried every day to convince his "parents" that Manhattan had been overrun with demons. It wasn't an earthquake that shook and swallowed the city. It was demons. The world was full of them since that attack.

But there was no evidence that Manhattan had even undergone an attack. There was no evidence that Manhattan had demons running through it. It was a city nearly completed in it's reconstruction and slowly rebuilding what was lost, with new occupants.

No one believed that the humans that were once there were wiped out.

No one cared to believe that.

Or maybe it was because it was too much to take in. And who could blame anyone for thinking that? Sam knew the truth. He was probably the only person in the world that did.

Of course there was Castiel, but who knew where he was? Hell, who even knew where Carmen was? Carmen was the demon that Dean created a long time ago. By accident. She stayed with Sam for about a week before she was taken. He could recall the night it happened quite vividly. They were living in a small motel at the time, with her leaving only to get him food and drink. It was isolated and cold and shady inside...but she assured him that she was going to keep him safe.

She told him that _he_ would have wanted her to. But it didn't take long for her to warm up to Sam, to actually want to care for him on her own.

And then they came for her. Four demons, dressed in all black with their faces covered. She felt them coming, instructed Sam to hide under the bed with the blankets covering all sides...but he still...saw. They had to be demons because she put up a fight before being overpowered and wrapped in iron chains that caused her skin to burn all while Sam watched helplessly from below the mattress.

He stayed underneath that bed for a day, curled up and afraid.

Then Castiel came. Called his name and told him he was going home.

By home, he meant this stupid house in Lawrence. He told Sam to stay with this family who would love him and care for him...and then he told him not to speak of anything he had seen...anything he had done so as not to cause panic.

He remembered asking why, then. And where Carmen was. One thing about Sam was he could at least tell when he was being lied to. And Castiel wasn't lying when he said he didn't know. And then he left. And Sam never saw him again.

Who knows where Carmen was now? And who knew if she was still alive? Tons more demons walking the earth. Maybe she had joined them. They had no leader without Dean, did they? Oh, who knew anymore. It's not like he would ever find out. Since the angel's power left him, he was stuck here...Ordinary.

Ordinary. Not special. Just someone who knew too much.

He was surprised he hadn't been killed or an attempt on his life hadn't been done yet. Someone wasn't keeping track. As if this wasn't perfect evidence that everything was still in chaos.

But maybe it was because he was hardly considered a threat. He was just a normal boy after all. Nothing to worry about with him. It's not like anyone would believe him.

And they didn't.

No one would believe that their nightmares had come true. Except that Sam had all the nightmares.

It happened every night.

Sam shuddered when he woke up in a hot sweat. His room was heavily air conditioned and the window was open but even then, his body was soaking in perspiration.

He wiped his face, cleared it from under his eyes and ran a hand through damp locks of hair. Here it was again. His clock showed nearly five am in the morning. Here was to another dismal day. There was no way he'd be able to conceal this dream throughout the day. Up until the therapy session after school, maybe.

Doctor Walker could see right through Sam's lies. He hadn't yet perfected a way of lying to an adult without seeming too obvious. Telling someone nothing was wrong and averting the eyes was hardly believable to anyone.

Well, he may as well have gotten ready. There was no way he could fall asleep again after that. He pulled off his blanket, closed the window. Estelle and Mark...He hadn't yet gotten used to calling them Mom and Dad. He probably never would. They weren't too fond of him opening the window every night, perhaps thinking he might sneak out. He never did it. Not once.

Though temptation was there. Going out there, finding the truth. Why not? He had spent a long time in danger when he was younger...Blackouts...waking up to a destroyed prefecture...

But maybe what stopped him now was fear of the unknown. The news broadcasted what they believed to be the truth. Missing people was a common theme in the news, didn't really matter what state you were in. People would vanish without a trace, never to be seen again in the same state. Some news stations called it a rising cult that was abducting young teenagers and adults.

Cult sounded right. But Sam could tell you the truth. People weren't being taken, they were being killed or turned into demons. Demons producing more demons. It was an endless cycle. Demons without purpose, made purpose in creating more of their kind.

And they walked among the living, or departed into the depths of Hell. It didn't matter. They were free now, and they had every right to go where they pleased. It'd make more sense to assume they were forming an army. But an army to battle...what?

Carmen had said her share when she spent time with him. Speculating. The one good thing about Carmen was that she didn't seem to have a filter on her thoughts. She said it as she saw it. She thought they were screwed. She expressed a lot of pain when Dean died. When Castiel returned to them that night saying Dean was gone, it was devastating.

But she believed that Dean being dead...that his Father...Sam couldn't bring himself to think of the name, being dead...meant that they were all lost. Not just her. All of them.

These were thoughts that used to plague Sam on a daily basis. Now, he simply felt numb to it all. He had pushed it all into the back of his head. Doctor Walker had suggested that he simply take it slow. One day at a time and focus on that. Focus on his home life. Focus on school. Focus on things that normal thirteen year olds actually worried about in their day to day lives.

Not apocalypses.

When Sam went downstairs, he was greeting by his "parents". He spent two hours stalling in the bathroom, plagued by his usual thoughts and only half-assed in his attempt to get dressed. Estelle had breakfast ready for him on the table. The smell of scrambled eggs and sausages would be tempting if he wasn't still shaken by his nightmare.

"I'll just eat in the cafeteria," He announced.

"Don't forget to head to Doctor Walker's after school," said Mark, not looking up from his newspaper. He was a business man of some computer company and he had the look of it. Black hair and black rimmed glasses wearing his usual suit as he ate his breakfast slowly. Estelle had the motherly look with short brown hair and bright eyes, wearing a dress with a slightly stained cooking apron.

"I remember," said Sam, picking up his backpack off the chair and heading out where only one other stood at the bus stop.

Her name was Jessica Moore. To Sam, she was an angel in human form. And this was coming from someone who knew for fact that angels existed on this planet. Ever since he first saw her, with her waving blonde locks, her pale face and beautiful blue eyes, he was in love with her. Maybe he was too young to know what that was...But she was the kindest soul he had ever met. She didn't look upon him with scorn like every other kid in school. She didn't care for an image that wouldn't matter to anyone after school was over. Her smile was the very best part of Sam's day.

She flashed that same smile when she saw him walking over.

"Hey Sam," She greeted. "You're up early."

"Yeah, I know," said Sam, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. "You're always the first one here, Jess. You get up way early than I do."

"My Dad's a doctor so he's awake at like three or four every morning. I just got used to waking up around the same time as him. Makes everyone's life easier when he makes noise in the kitchen. What about you? You don't really ride the bus often," Jess pointed out.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. It was true. He usually did ride with his "Dad"...on his own wishes. He hated the kids at school more than he cared to admit. And the bus stop always provided a perfect location for kids to be as vicious as possible away from the eyes of adults. Especially for those who didn't bring their parents along. Sam would be one of them.

"I don't," said Sam. "But...I...wanted to try something different today."

"Well, I'm glad you did anyway. It's nice to see you, Sam," said Jess. And she sounded completely sincere which took Sam aback. He had developed a natural talent for being able to detect when people were lying.

And Jess wasn't lying. She was actually pleased to see him here.

He didn't know why, he was nobody. He was a loser. He was a freak. Everyone at school knew it even if they didn't know the details of why. His behavior was enough. He had no friends. He didn't even make an effort to make any. The people he actually considered friends were figments of his imagination according to his parents and Doctor Walker.

"Thanks...," said Sam uncertainly.

There was little else to say so Jess merely patted him on the back and went off to join her coming friends. She was very popular. One could call her the most popular girl in their grade level. He wouldn't blame her for leaving him like he was some kind of leper. People like Jess shouldn't be seen talking to him.

In what seemed like forever, the bus came, and by that time, Sam had huddled himself under an empty parking hood to keep away from the fog. It was too cold today..and he was reminded of the day he met Dean.

Well, it was down to the day that Dean died. Maybe nature was laughing at him too. Wouldn't be the only thing.

He sat in the middle of the bus where an empty space was available. They were one of the first on the stop list so the kids that entered with Sam were able to get whatever seat they chose. He shrunk next to the window and hoped he looked like small prey. Behind him in the back, he heard Jessica and her friends chatter among themselves. She hadn't chose to sit with them, she chose a middle seat too, but they weren't that far to stop the conversation about whatever...girls talked about.

A few stops down the line came the row of apartments he always dreaded seeing. Sam lived in a friendly neighborhood. But that didn't mean the school district wasn't poor. And they had just shifted to the bad side of the district or as Sam liked to call it, the dark side.

Reason being...

Jack Cole.

Usually Sam kept to himself. Kept quiet and didn't say much to anyone unless they spoke to him first...But Cole seemed to take a special interest in Sam and not exactly in the good way. If there was such thing in Sam's experience.

Every time he caught Sam even minutely making a social gesture...to anyone...He made it a point to publicly humiliate Sam. Maybe the point was to get a rise out of Sam. It never usually worked. Jacky Boy(the cool little nickname he gave Cole in his head) didn't know what to say to pull on Sam's anger strings.

He would probably mangle Sam if he saw or knew he was talking to Jessica.

When the boy climbed into the bus, Sam stared determinedly out the window, slouching just a bit so he wouldn't seem noticeable.

Of course that wasn't enough. Cole took notice of him immediately, planting himself in the seat just behind Sam and talking loudly with his friends. Their conversation took on what they had done over the weekend, to video games. It wouldn't be long now.

While Sam's own thoughts took a blank turn. Sometimes this happened. He thought so much on what wasn't supposed to exist that he simply had to shut down sometimes. It just sucked that it happened while he was awake. When he slept, he had no respite. When he was awake, ninety percent of the time, his thoughts went to the dark side.

To Dean...And who could blame him? The demon had destroyed himself so everyone else could live. How could Sam not think of him when he was partly to blame? He had walked into Dean's life the same the demon did him.

Where Sam was before Dean came along...Who knew? It was like finding a needle in a haystack. His memory was blurry until the day he met Dean. It was like he was granted clarity. Waking up in that prefecture surrounded by bodies and then being told or hinted that he had done it all...and then Dean came along.

Lucifer had been sleeping inside him. His power, his essence. It was possession in it's own right. Lucifer was probably the one in control of him since birth...And who his real parents were...if he even had any...was a mystery to him. Well, they had never went looking for him, it was never in any newspapers...and believe it, Sam looked.

He supposed Estelle and Mark meant well for what they were worth. Just a lonely couple unable to produce their own child so they took on Sam as an extra mouth to feed to make themselves feel good about their accomplishments. For his part, he tried to stay out of their way and not cause too much trouble.

"...And then there's this asshole," Jack leaned over Sam's seat and flicked his ear in a particularly painful way. Sam jumped. He should have expected that. Damn, he was careless.

"How's it hanging, dipshit?" Maybe it was just Sam, but Jack Cole's voice was the most grating voice he had ever heard. He had a slight nasal problem in that he breathed hard through his nose. His Dad was a star athlete in the NFL before he injured his knee and took to training his son how to play ball in the backyard every Saturday. How tragic was it that Cole had to break only his nose on one of those occasions.

He flicked Sam's ear again to call him to attention. "What'd you do this weekend besides jack off to Sunday Night Football? Fuckin' fag."

Another flick. And another. His ear was going red, not just from the irritant and Cole's fingernail usage, but because Sam had flushed. Really, how could someone be so offensive and use that term?

He repeated it, this time using the term to call Sam rather than using his name. Sam slouched a little bit more but that only prompted Cole to reach over the seat to remain attached.

Sam was on the verge of opening his mouth to say something. Chicken scratch in comparison to what he actually wanted to say when someone else beat him to the punch.

"Leave him alone, Jack," It was a quiet but firm tone, audible enough to hush the chatter in the bus.

Sam peered over to find Jess was looking straight at Jack with a cold look. Now, usually he never sat near Jess to let her get wind of this. Today was an exception. She had chosen that seat across from Sam for her friends, or maybe she chose it intentionally. Who knew? But she had ended her own conversations to engage Cole.

"Aw, c'mon. I'm just teasing the village idiot. I saw his report card on Friday. He got all D's in everything including Gym. Who the hell fails Gym?" Cole sneered.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. Costigan. Cole. Their names were too close...and having this adopted name gave Sam the unfortunate task of having Cole for homeroom where morning announcements were heard and report cards were issued. It didn't help that homeroom was instructed by the coach who absolutely loved Cole and had him do all the menial tasks like pass out flyers...and report cards.

"That's enough," said Jess. "You've said enough."

Cole fixated on her with his lip curling in a challenge. It was pretty obvious Jack had a soft spot for the prettiest girl in their grade, so he slumped back down in his seat and went back to picking up sports conversation with a slightly frustrated look on his face. Sam mouthed a silent thank you to Jess when their eyes met and she gave him a faint smile and tiny nod.

The rest of the bus ride was uneventful except for when Sam was getting off, Cole got behind him and made it a point to trip him on the last step by stepping on a wayward shoelace of Sam's. He hit the ground face first and got a mouthful of wet sand and dirt. He heard laughter above him as people stepped over and on him on their way up to the school steps. Cole made it a point to kick Sam in the ribs as he sniggered past.

"Gotta love school," said Sam, pulling himself up. He wasn't looking for Jess for rescue this time. It should have struck his self-esteem that a girl had to rescue him. But funny thing about having that was that you actually had to _have_ a little bit of it for it to be an issue.

The rest of school passed in a very long daze. He had seven classes in total, eight if you counted homeroom which he didn't. But each one supplied it's own boring information that Sam found too boring to actually intake. No wonder he was failing. None of this information mattered. Nothing the teachers were saying was noteworthy. Because the reality of the world was right outside their doorsteps.

And no one really cared.

A long time ago...He had asked Dean why no one else could see Castiel's wings in plain sight and only catch their shadows if they were looking. Dean had said it was because no one believed. Not truly. Even the people who followed religion weren't true followers. Because despite how desperately people preached and practiced their religion...there was no true proof behind anything existing to mankind. What classified as miracles by heaven were long since past. Dean had said that people practicing religion without seeing the truth spent their whole lives chasing illusions. Only when the sinners came back as demons was the truth realized. In most cases. He expressed that it was a sad truth...but a truth nonetheless.

He could always see Castiel's wings...The physical form...and that was probably because he believed. Or hey, maybe because he walked around with an angel inside. Who knows now?

No one in this place believed. They were content living blind lives.

And now Sam was stuck in that same situation. It was time, he told himself. He would tell Doctor Walker later today that he was done with the illusion. He was done freaking his foster parents out. He was done trying to convince anyone what he saw, what he lived through was real. He was going to have to make some changes. He was young...but it was time. He had to be like these guys. What a life it would be to not see what he had seen, to not have gone through what Sam had. He would have traded everything to not know what he knew.

Now he could make that little dream a reality by saying it out loud. Isn't that what schools taught? Basically the repetition of information through verbal word and then written word? If he told himself enough times that it was all just an incredibly vivid dream that never really happened, maybe one day he would believe it. If he wrote it down in a journal five hundred times, maybe when he took his pencil off the paper, it would all make sense to him.

He headed off to Doctor Walker's after school. Lucky for him. He didn't think he could stand being inside that bus again with all that noise...So much for changes...Oh well, he had to start with convincing the person that mattered first. If he got out of therapy, then the rumors would stop. Then they'd all ease up.

Doctor Walker was waiting for him when he entered. The secretary had merely smiled at Sam. She knew he had never failed punctuality and she knew better than to make him wait. Lest he just walk out and take the long way home to a very long argument with Estelle and Mark.

Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad. He needed to get used to that.

Walker looked like a typical bookish type of about forty or forty-five. He had very white skin, short sandy brown hair and light colored eyes that were hidden behind very thick glasses. But what annoyed Sam was the man's dress sense. There was no other word to describe him except nerdy. He had on a striped t-shirt, khaki pants and an ugly green sweater vest over his t-shirt. It was like eighty degrees outside. Why was a vest necessary?

But he smiled warmly when Sam entered and gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Walker's office was boring for a child psychiatrist. At least others may have attempted to brighten the room with color and motivational posters spouting random facts and quotes from other people. Walker just had shelves of books and lots of plants with his awards framed and covering the walls. At least he wasn't modest about how awesome he was in the eyes of the school boards. This looked more like a psychiatric office for grown-ups rather than "young adults."

"So, Sam...," Walker began when Sam planted his backpack on the ground and took a seat. "I hope your past week went well? Did you do anything over the weekend?"

Ah, small talk.

Always so fun.

"It was fine," said Sam stiffly. He really should have cooperated. It wasn't going to make fifty minutes go faster by leaving long stretches of silence between them.

"Did you get to do anything fun?"

Sam supposed that was a typical question. Walker asked it every week and Sam was running out of lies. You couldn't go to the movies every week, and Walker already knew Sam didn't have any friends...And there was only so many sports you could make up having an affinity for and using as an excuse. He was no Jack Cole.

Might as well not lie. "No."

"Really? Just a sleep in, huh?" Walker asked, pulling out his clipboard and placing it on his lap as he leaned back in the chair expectantly. "I do that too sometimes. Sometimes you sleep so little during the whole week because of school or work that when the weekend comes, sleep is all you can do."

"From what I understand, a lot of people find it hard to sleep on the weekend nights because of getting up early during the week," Sam remarked.

Walker laughed. "Not me. I almost always sleep through the whole Saturday morning."

This conversation was so stupid.

"Good for you. Some of us can't afford the luxury of sound sleep," said Sam with a humorless smile. How cynical of him. He wasn't usually this cold and so far he wasn't off on a good start of convincing the person that mattered that he wasn't insane.

Walker was abruptly serious. "You had another dream."

It wasn't a question. It never was. Sam had made the mistake of confiding in Walker before about his dreams and now the good doctor would never let him forget it. Well, what could you do when you had dreams like the ones Sam had?

"No," He said a little too quickly. Adults could always tell when you were lying when you did it too fast...and not meeting their eyes when they talked. And Sam sure didn't.

"Sam...," Walker began sympathetically. His face was too understanding, too warm and soft for Sam's tastes.

"Look...It doesn't matter anymore," Sam gulped hard, swallowing all his pride and mustering all his courage to spew the lie. "...I don't...I don't believe in that stuff anymore."

"When you say...'that stuff', you mean..."

"Yeah," said Sam shortly. "I don't believe in it."

"Tell me more about what happened in your dream," said Walker, interlocking his fingers together.

"I told you," Sam began desperately. "I don't-"

Walker nailed him with a stern look. " Sam...Humor me."

Sam deflated like a balloon. "It was just...something I've been seeing a lot."

"So this is reoccurring?" Infuriatingly, Walker clicked his pen and began to jot something down on the clipboard on his lap.

"Kind of," said Sam, trying to keep his patience. Why was he talking about this? What happened to pretending it was all a lie?

But a part of him, the part he hated more than life itself was relieved to say the words out loud. He damn sure couldn't explain the situation to Estelle and Mark. Lest he give them both permanent brain damage.

"What happened?" Walker asked, voice laced with concern.

Sam sighed, speaking in a dull tone as if he had repeated it numerous times. But he supposed if he kept the emotion out of his voice, it might make it easier to say. As he spoke, all the details of the nightmare came flooding back in fast succession."I was standing in this room..The walls were black...paint was...melting. But there was something wrong...The ceiling...was starting to bleed. Mixing with the paint...It started to smell..like blood and rain."

"Was anyone else there with you?"

Sam nodded while closing his eyes. "He was there."

"Who was there?"

Sam opened his eyes and stonewalled Walker with a hard look. "You know who."

Walker nodded. "Dean."

"He kept trying to say something to me...but I couldn't understand him. I kept calling his name, he didn't seem to hear me," said Sam slowly, frowning.

"Sometimes that happens," said Walker wisely. "Sometimes it's simply a dream we cannot interact with. I'm not surprised. But you shouldn't be discouraged. What else happened? Why do you think you couldn't talk to him?"

Sam was hesitant on the next part. It was one thing to explain a creepy room, it was another thing altogether to explain why he couldn't talk to it's occupant. The words formed on his lips but he bit them back.

But at this point there was no point in hiding it.

"You can tell me, Sam. Nothing leaves this room," Walker assured him.

Liar. If he started spewing crap about suicide, he'd tell Estelle and Mark. And then Sam would be put in a padded room. Seemed like a welcome respite from all this.

"I probably couldn't hear him...," Sam began dolefully. "Because he was on fire."

Silence followed his words and Sam stared at his own hands for a long moment. "He was burning...alive...I thought the fire was hurting him...I think it was...but I couldn't hear him over the sound. He was staring at me...I think he wanted me to help him but...I couldn't understand what he was saying.."

Walker was silent for a long time that Sam thought he had gone into shock. When he looked up however, the doctor's face was contemplative. He was tapping his lip with his pen and then slowly, he lowered it.

"Sam, why do you think it's so important for these dreams to mean something to you?" Walker asked, and he held up a hand because Sam had opened his mouth to protest. "No...I've told you before. I believe what you say...but this man...this _Dean_ that meant so much to you. Seeing him in pain. Don't you think it's possible that you're seeing him only because subconsciously your mind has come up with a worst case scenario? Or in this case, an _extreme_ case scenario?"

He hadn't told him Dean was a demon. Just that he was a very powerful being that Sam knew who once had his life tied to Sam before he purposely broke the connection to save Sam...and now he was dead.

As there was no proof that a_ 'very powerful being'_ named Dean existed...they thought he was crazy. Of course not. Dean probably didn't have any birth certificate. He probably didn't have any credit cards...being a demon. And eye witnesses would probably just point him as a regular man with short brown hair and striking green eyes.

"It's survivor's guilt," Walker continued. "Perhaps you believe it was your fault that he died...or you're angry that he died and you're still alive. It's actually pretty common."

"No," said Sam, feeling himself go red. "I am _not_ one of your textbook cases. I'm_ nothing_ in your damn textbook. I'm not feeling guilty because Dean died. I'm not guilty at all. Dean died because he wanted to. He's exactly where he wanted to be. He had no choice. There's nothing I can do for him. But...If..."

"If..?" Walker prompted. He seemed relatively unphased by Sam's outburst, probably having heard it from patients millions of times before.

"If he's in trouble," said Sam uncertainly. "Then what am I supposed to do? What _can_ I do? I mean I keep seeing it happen...and there's nothing I can do from here...So why is he reaching out to me of all people? It...shouldn't be happening."

And that was true. Dean had sworn a life debt to Sam a long time ago. From what Sam understood, that meant his life was tied to Sam's until release unless he swore it to someone else. And he did, effectively severing the connection they once shared. So why was Sam still seeing Dean in vivid images when his mind went to sleep?

Perhaps there was some lingering effects of the bond they once shared.

"It's all right, Sam," said Walker. "The dreams will pass. Dreams are usually a manifestation of what our subconscious is thinking. I believe that once you're through mourning Dean...you'll stop dreaming of him. All you have to do...is release the pain you feel from losing him. I'm not saying it's going to be easy or fully pass...but maybe one day, you might be able to let him go."

In other words, do what he planned on doing. Maybe his heart wasn't truly set on it when he thought it before. Because suddenly a wave of pain washed over him at Walker's words. He didn't want to let Dean go. He didn't want to forget...but he had to.

"I think time's up," said Sam in a small whisper.

Walker sighed and checked his watch after a long moment. "No, we still have about twenty minutes left."

"That's all right," said Sam, standing and pulling his backpack up from next to the chair. "We can go longer next week."

"It doesn't work that way, Sam,"

"Humor me," said Sam sardonically, mirroring the Doctor's words as he turned to leave. Home wasn't a welcome prospect either but he wasn't about to sit here and get his head examined any longer. Time to just sleep it off and hope that burning dead people wouldn't invade his subconscious tonight.


	6. Forget

Castiel had never looked more part of the night than he did now. He had discarded of the old tan trenchcoat that Dean had forced him to wear years ago. It didn't go well with what he was doing and not to mention, it had succumbed to several tears and rips from his battle with two extremely powerful demons these past two years. Pride and Lust.

Pride was easy. He was a big brute that resembled an Anema demon. Castiel had the misfortune of encountering one before. It wasn't exactly pretty. He had horns that curved above his head and stood tall at eight or nine feet, towering Castiel. The task was simply to best him in battle to gain access to the second circle. He was a very formidable opponent. Fast as well large, there was no way to hide. There were over fifteen hundred demons watching in the circular arena that resembled a roman coliseum and none were exactly cheering Castiel to win.

He only managed to best Pride through reverse tactics. The demon had encountered thousands of others and he had bested them all. Most wanted to destroy Pride if only to prove themselves. There was no simply killing him. You could never neutralize Pride. It existed all over the world and the beast was simply the embodiment of it. But he blinded the beast through both eyes with lightning spells, leaving him only to use sound and smell to strike if he could. He stumbled blindly for a few minutes, striking with huge claws that were big and sharp enough to cut Castiel in half if need be.

When he finally managed to defeat him, struck his sword in the demon's stomach, the crowd jeered and called catcalls for him as the new victor. Waves of white and red power released from Pride and entered Castiel. It was a curious thing, but he could feel his own power surging in reaction. Not exactly a bad thing...but not a good thing either. While he felt empowered, it wasn't hard to feel that his Grace had been tainted through means of corruption.

On par with the deal, Crowley appeared when the arena cleared holding the vial at the ready. Castiel consumed it without hesitation and before him, a portal opened that only he seemed to be able to see in the middle of the arena...A pit...leading directly into the second circle: Lust.

Crowley warned that he would be keeping an eye on Dante and him from now on. They were free to leave whenever they wanted. There was freedom to travel between the eight circles and to the mortal realm once opened.

Lust was not so easy to kill. Foolishly, he had insisted on splitting up with Dante when they entered. Covered more ground, he said. He was thinking tactically. But of course tactics made no difference when you're in hell. People were tortured here on a daily basis. Souls were everywhere in the form of physical people bloodied and broken that could not see or did not acknowledge them. And they had to swim through them.

Lust embodied a woman...a medusa like creature with snakes in her hair and a snake for a lower body. Only her upper body was human like at all, but like Pride, she was too large in size to be considered human. When Castiel first encountered her in a black lake, she emerged from the water, the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. Dante had warned that they should not trust what they saw through their eyes...and that he may fall into a trance if he did. Lust had stayed in the womanly form to charm Castiel, standing just above the middle of the lake like an angel in the moonlight.

But he was not fooled...and that was when she took on a form she knew would call to him. Dean's. He had no words when he approached, merely took Castiel's face in a heated kiss that the angel knew well. Dean's blood was always hot, made of fire and hell itself. Castiel felt it every time they had touched in the past...and this illusion captured it perfectly. Or perhaps it was his own sick desire in missing Dean that compelled him to kiss back, to hold "Dean" in a tight embrace and fall into the throes of the trance.

It was only through Dante that he had prevailed. The fallen found him in the nick of time, pressed a dagger to Lust's throat to pull him away. She immediately reformed into the medusa like creature and screeched a wail that was needles in his ears.

But she was defeated, and she knew it. She disappeared, and where she left, another vial appeared, sinking to the bottom of the lake, this one larger than the rest. Castiel swam through to the depths to get it. It was bigger than the last, and though still a dark liquid, there was an eerie, pink glow to it. Dante encouraged Castiel to drink it when he brought it back...and again, without much hesitance, he drank it.

This time, the effect was instantaneous, polluting into his bloodstream, darkening it. He felt his wings pull out to full form reflexively and wasn't too surprised to find that they had begun to darken from the roots. Well, Crowley had warned him. He had warned himself...

But it was an immense surprise to find two years had passed since he had fought Pride. Dante explained that time worked differently in Hell and he already knew that. But the transition between circles of hell had a tremendous effect on time in Hell. Two hundred years had passed for Castiel already. And though mentally he was able to recount his battle with Pride as only two days ago, physically the effects were showing..the power he gained was different. He still had his own Will, the untainted part of him that utilized lightning as a key element, that utilized flight.

But new clicks seemed to form in his head. Dante explained that he was tapping into darker magic...exclusive to Fallen. Not even demons had these abilities with the exception of the high class Imperials. If he could read minds before, he could now control them if he wanted. They experienced this first hand by returning to Earth where Castiel managed to influence the mind of a lesser being, a simple bartender, into skimming over asking for payment for their drinks.

Moral code should have dictated this was wrong...but Castiel didn't think so...In fact, he found it amusing.

Like killing the mind of a dumb animal.

Returning to Earth had sound reason. He could have continued. In fact, maybe he should have continued onward even if it meant a hundred years passing every time in Hell and one more on Earth. That was how time worked in Hell after all. One hundred years there meant one going by topside. He shouldn't have been surprised that things were different when he arrived back on Earth.

The angels were looking for him, but it wasn't their top priority. They were still on patrol, still shielding themselves from human and demon eyes so as to travel safely, but that didn't mean Castiel wasn't wary of them. He had shut off the Link long ago to stop receiving orders, and there was no way to tap back in in his current state. The Link was the method of communication between angels that helped them keep formation. A lot of times, they needed only to close their eyes, picture their surroundings in their mind while Linking to show where they were to the other person and receive aid or update the situation.

Balthazar had more than likely put Castiel as a lost cause and said he died in battle. Or maybe he knew. But he obviously didn't deem Castiel a threat, otherwise there would be more angels patrolling the dimensional doors. Especially the one that Castiel came through with Dante.

Dante had thought Castiel stupid for coming back. He wanted to keep going but Castiel insisted he needed a bit of a break. Could the Fallen really blame him? After dispatching Pride and Lust, he thought he was well within his boundaries to take a rest.

Of course angels didn't really require sleep but that was besides the point. He came here for Sam.

The boy was troubled, that much was sure. Castiel didn't come here to take note of something so obvious. He had grown in the last two years but not well. He was obviously unpopular in school and it was more than likely because of all the events he went through with Dean and himself. Castiel felt slight guilt for that. Dean did say in his last words to simply erase Sam's mind of everything for a chance at a better life.

But he couldn't do the task. Oh, he knew the spell well enough...it was just cruel to take it away...and Sam himself wouldn't have wanted it to be that way.

That was his thinking. Two years ago.

Now, things had changed. He was absolutely sure the boy was in no danger here in Lawrence with his adoptive parents. He even had a crush on the girl on his block and wasn't exactly subtle at hiding the fact though she seemed to be blissfully ignorant. His parents loved him or at least loved the idea of their adopted son. They watched out for him and wanted what was best for him as any parent would. Already Dad had a college plan lined up for Sam in Stanford University.

He was still unhappy. Castiel tapped into the conversation of the doctor today from a distrance during his therapy session with Sam and found something troubling. Sam was having dreams...visions of Dean burning in Hell. Whether this was premonition, the present or just something of Sam's imagination, it didn't bode well for his future or his mental health in the long run if continued.

Castiel watched Sam from the shadows of a row of trees across the street from where Doctor Walker had his sessions with him. It was late when Sam emerged and the sky was black with a few stars already puckering out. He wouldn't see Castiel even if he looked his way. But he wanted to provide the boy with some comfort. Something to let him know that he wasn't insane as everyone else seemed to think he was. He was alone now...and Castiel couldn't interfere with his life...but he could give him something.

That something was in his hand, held tight within his palm It was a silver ring that Dean's deceased Guardian demon, Merrick, once owned. The ring later passed on to Dean after his death and he altered it somehow to reflect the names of the people that he cared for the most. Sam. Castiel. Merrick. Cursive letters on the inside.

It would probably give Sam great comfort to own something of his deceased loved one, even though Castiel cherished it just the same. But he had to remember his own task. He was going to be seeing Dean soon anyway, or at least he told himself that...so let the boy have the ring to know that he was still loved...and that his favorite demon was coming back to him one day soon.

He made to move from under the tree. Planting in the backpack, invisible to his eyes seemed like a good idea.

"Are you serious right now?" The voice made him jump and turn. Just like the first time Castiel had seen him, Dante was lounging in a high tree branch above Castiel.

"What?" Castiel hissed. "What, are you following me? I told you I needed a few minutes to be alone."

"And you come back to Lawrence," Dante wasn't joking. He looked extremely annoyed. "Of all places to have a good time, you spy on a child. Really, I'm beginning to think you deserve going into the bowels of Hell."

"He's not just a child," said Castiel scathingly. "He's part-"

"He's part of your past. He's part of Dean's past. He means something to you," Dante finished, hopping off the tree and landing neatly beside Castiel. "Did you not hear our steward king lovingly say that he's going to be keeping an eye on you? We're being watched, Celestial. If you honestly think Crowley's not making good on that, you're stupider than you look."

"I don't care about Crowley," said Castiel. "I just want to give the boy something before we leave."

"What, that ring you're holding?" Dante replied smugly when Castiel at him in some shock. "Come on, Castiel. I'm going to be spending over nine hundred years of my life passing through circles of Hell with you. If you don't think I won't know your deepest darkest secret by the end of it...I didn't even have to reach out to sense you. This is the only place you can go that actually holds some value to you."

"What are you getting at?"

"This kid is a target. As long as you know him, as long as you come here. He's a target. Bigger still if you keep him in the know, if _you_ know what I mean. He knows the truth about the world. He knows there are dark places where the shadows make demons and the light makes angels. If a demon, any one...knew where he was and that he knew...Oh, he's getting dragged into Hell for sure."

"I won't let that happen," said Castiel firmly.

"You can't make that promise," Dante laughed. "You can't make_ any_ promise on this plane. You're _not_ going to remain on here. You're going to Hell. Again and again and again. You have nothing to do with Sam anymore. You have an agenda of your own. Tell you what...You want my advice? Forget about him. And while you're at it, might wanna make him forget you too. Make him forget you...Dean...demons...fucking angels. Make him forget it all."

"I can't do that," Castiel admitted. "He's all I have left that's alive from my past. Sam means something to me...and I'm doing him a favor already by not getting involved or getting him involved. The least I can do is give him something that belonged to Dean so that his mind stops creating these...visions."

"His mind is not _creating_ anything, Castiel. Your boy shared a bond with Dean that was of mutual effect," said Dante in a bored voice, leaning against the tree and crossing his arms. "It transcended the norm. The visions he's seeing are real...as long as he knows Dean exists and believes in him, he'll never be free. You want to do him a favor, do him the best one and erase his mind of Dean forever. As long as the faintest flicker of their bond is there, he will always see Dean...and that's unfortunate."

"But...It's cruel to take away his memory."

"And you're a cruel Fallen now. Think of it as an investment in a brighter future for everyone," said Dante. "Trust me, you can always just lift the enchantment if something goes wrong...but for now...chuck that ring away, and erase his mind."

"I...," Castiel began feebly, running out of an argument. Dante was right. He wasn't doing Sam any favors by standing here and watching him suffer. He should have done it a long time ago when Dean requested it in a final breath. It was cruel itself that he hadn't obeyed before. If it was Dean's last wish, how could he deny him?

The tight hand around the ring loosened and he heard it fall and roll away off the dirt mound they stood on, into the street. But Castiel wasn't watching that, he was watching Sam until the boy left his sight and headed into a park. It was now or never...He wouldn't come back after this. He would press on as he was meant to do...and he'd leave Sam to live the life that he was meant to, untouched by magic and darkness.

"Give me a second...I want to be the one to do it," said Castiel, turning his head briefly to Dante who gave him a curt nod. With that said, Castiel vanished and took flight at the speed of lightning.

He waited until Sam was in his house having dinner before he stopped next to a car and watched. Using his extensive hearing, Castiel caught wind of the conversation. The boy uttered a few words to his parents regarding his day at school and session with Doctor Walker in a dull voice. It was obvious he didn't want to linger on either subject...and Estelle and Mark didn't press him, just requested he do his homework before bed.

So Sam did, for a good twenty minutes he finished what little homework he had before closing his light at the top floor and sliding into bed. Castiel entered soundlessly through the window. It didn't take long for Sam's nightmares to close in on him. He twitched in his sleep under the covers and trembled.

"Dean," Sam murmured.

Surely, it would escalate from there.

Pressing a hand to his forehead, he felt the warmth of a fever. This tiny connection with Dean caused his temperature to skyrocket when they were linked in Sam's dream. His touch would feel cold but Sam didn't wake up to it. He had already gone too deep into sleep. Sam twitched and shook under his hand. More visions...

It was a horrible thing to tamper with someone's memory. Castiel had done it before to no avail, but it was a split second move. He had done it to a girl that Dean would later make his demon child: Carmen. He had made her forget her encounter with Dean but the demon had killed her moments later and drained her energy to heal wounds he had received. She died...and was born again Demon.

She was an accident. And she was somewhere in the world, who knew where. Castiel wondered if she too, shared a connection with Dean like this. If she too, had visions of his suffering in Hell.

He couldn't stay on this realm to find out.

"_Forget_," Castiel whispered the word. And it was easy to pull what he wanted Sam to forget. Everything in his youth with Dean and Castiel and Merrick. Everything about being Lucifer's vessel and holding his power...All of it. He destroyed it all, scattered it until the remnants simply disintegrated inside his mind.


	7. The Scripture

Once Castiel returned to Dante, they set off again to return to the nearest dimensional door into Hell where they would press on, no doubt. Their work on Earth was done for the time being...leaving the mess behind them.

Dante was right to some degree. They were being watched. But the stranger took no hesitation in following their footsteps. Literally. She was right there under the same exact tree that the fallen were beneath and a few steps forward lit her face from the moonlight.

Her hair was a dark brown with a slight bronze tint and her eyes were a sharp green. She wore a black romper made of some satiny material with a long v neck. Her sleeves were high, revealing a name written in black and green cursive. "_Carmen_" on her shoulder. Her shorts were going barely past an appropriate length to accent her smooth long legs leading all the way to silver buckled black boots. On her back, a silver sword was tied, gleaming with red symbols along the blade. She reached into her pocket and drew out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one at the end and sticking it in her mouth. One look at the area and she knew she had come to the right place.

Just before she took one step onto a mostly empty street, her boot found some resistance at the bottom. She cleared her foot off the silver ring and lifted it off the ground.

Castiel. Sam. Merrick.

Names embedded on the inside.

This might be useful. Carmen slid it on one finger and kept walking. The only car on this street was a black jeep. The doctor hadn't left the office. Perfect.

When the woman entered, even the receptionist had gone home but Doctor Walker's office light remained on. What was he doing inside so late? Was this usual or did no one simply care enough to notice? Didn't he have a family to home to? This confirmed her suspicions.

Late night work, huh?

Interesting. What could call for such diligence? She stubbed out her cigarette under her boot after taking a long drag and blowing out a cloud of smoke. Her fingers felt behind her and came to a grip on the hilt of her sword where it disappeared with a shimmer of red and gold. She was no longer burdened with the weight.

Carmen appeared, at most, like a normal teenager.

Well, a normal teenager coming to a psychiatrists office after hours dressed...kind of like a skank. Okay, so no one was perfect.

She walked in like she owned the place. Who could blame her, when she was dressed like that? She owned the ground she walked on. Walker looked up from his desk in some surprise when he spotted her, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

He got up almost immediately. "I'm sorry. My office is closed for the day."

Carmen ignored him, plopped herself down on the seat across from his desk and raised both legs up on the corner of his table, crossing them and crossing her arms.

"Oh, I think you'll make an exception," She said with her eyes twinkling in a threatening sort of way.

"Really, you shouldn't be here," Walker insisted in a sharp tone. "I'm serious. I'll call the authorities."

"You should know better than to _try_ to instill fear into someone like me," She answered, placing her hands behind her neck. "It never works."

Walker stared at her in puzzlement...then his eyes widened like he realized something drastic...She looked like another no-good teenager during some rebellious phase. A runaway, maybe with garments like that. It basically told that she had been away from home for a long time...doing who knows what.

But Walker was no fool.

His eyes flickered to hers and understanding seemed to fully dawn upon him. It felt like the rooms temperature was over a hundred degrees. Something about her rubbed him the wrong way and now he knew why. He was used to handling all sort of troubled cases just by looking at them, yet she was different. She was disturbed.

And he usually didn't attach that word to anyone. Even those that actually were. It wasn't professional.

"Can I help you?" He questioned uncertainly. A fine sheet of sweat began to form upon his brow.

"Yes, actually. I was in the area, and I wandered into your territory...I do wonder if this is a bad thing, just wandering aimlessly into a relatively small town...Checking the scenery, you know? Can you guess why though? Why I might have stumbled upon this particular town?" Carmen asked conversationally.

"No, I can't," Walker replied shortly.

"The crime rate in_ this_ state is at an all time low compare to other major cities...It's a good place to settle down...In my opinion," She answered casually, looking at nothing in particular while talking. The roof, the desk, the plant on his desk that had black stems with red leaves. "What do you think, Doctor? What do you say to me being one of your new patients? I daresay that a simple city girl walking into your office is good reason as any to take on a new client."

"I don't...think that would be a good idea,"

Carmen's eyes gleamed in his direction. "Why is that, Doctor? Freedom is a relative term that applies to this situation, don't you think? I have this freedom to come where I may...to live where I choose. And I chose this place...and I chose you."

"Freedom is a relative term reserved for..humans," The last word was said uncertainly. Walker had stood now, circled around his desk in a cautious matter that screamed deliberation. Yet she didn't seem to show any signs of alarm. No, instead she leaned further back in her chair and her expression could be nothing short of relaxed.

"Freedom is a relative term for anyone living..." Carmen answered cheerfully. "I believe freedom is relative to anyone who truly believes it. Why you, for example. You are bound by your morals and your understanding of the law and rules that bind you to this planet...Me, I walk on a much easier path, free of any moral dilemmas. It's probably not in your textbooks...Oh, I'm sure you have all sorts of definition for people who _pretend_ to not care for the feelings and laws that others are bound to...but have you ever truly met someone who truly lived by it? _Not so fast_, Doctor."

This time her voice came out sharp and stopped him mid-stride. His eyes raked over her and felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Walker had gone past her line of sight. She snapped right on him before he could make another move. He had stopped near a bookcase and leaned quietly against a shelf which pressed into a wall. The click of the button was subtle and almost soundless to his ears.

To his surprise, she just leaned back in the chair and continued babbling.

"As I was saying...," said Carmen casually. " Moral coding is such a deabilitating aspect of being human...I really should be more crass with you. But as it is...you_ should_ be more considerate of my needs.. See Doc...I'm having some problems of my own...I've been hearing a voice in my head. It's been telling me to do a few things that are a little questionable, you know what I mean? Would you consider that normal by your standards?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you," said Walker, almost coldly. "I'm sorry. But you'll have to leave."

"And miss this magnificent opportunity to finally talk to you?" She smiled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Walker hastily.

"You can calm down, doctor. I can hear that erratic heartbeat from over a hundred miles away. I just want to ask you a few questions. If you answer me honestly...Then you won't have a problem. However, I do declare you have the shrewdest mind I've come in contact with in an age. I can already tell this is going to be difficult."

"Please leave. Or I'm going to call the cops,"

"A cage can't hold me," Carmen narrowed her eyes.

"Depends on the substance of the cage," said Walker icily. He was referring of course to an iron cage. Iron was a common weakness for demons. Imperial or otherwise.

Carmen ignored his comment for the most part. "Aren't you currently treating a patient with a voice in his head? Hm...Didn't he just leave?"

"No,"

It was clear that every word spewed was a lie. Of course it was. Yet she was short on time if she wanted answers.

"Do you know who I am, Doctor?"

"I can't say that I do,"

"Oh, I think you know a lot more than you're letting on," She said it in a sing song voice. "Why so tense? Sit down...Make yourself at home..or office, whatever you prefer. I don't mean you any harm as long as you cooperate with me, of course."

"I don't treat patients that are...subhuman."

" What...'subhuman?'" Carmen repeated as though it was a curse word. "Sub? What, you think you're better than me? What makes you better than me? You know what I am?"

"No,"

She let her legs drop and faced him forward in the chair, her entire body angled towards him. "Sit down, Doctor Walker."

"I'll stand,"

"You'll sit," Carmen commanded. "We're going to do this my way...or I'm _going_ to kill you. It's as simple as that. Do you fear death, Doctor Walker?"

"I don't-"

"_Sit down_. I have a few questions for you."

Her voice brokered no argument this time, and there seemed to be power in her gaze. Walker could swear he saw her bright green eyes rim with scarlet.

He sat without question. He felt resigned...but yet somehow relieved.

And that confused her.

Carmen placed an elbow on the table and curled her two fingers into what looked like a claw. Effortlessly, or so it seemed, she pulled his mind towards hers.

Her voice was sharp as daggers, probing. "What's your full name?"

"Francis Walker," His voice was complete monotone.

Hearing that made Carmen's serious expression fall in amusement. "Your first name is Francis?"

"Yes,"

"What is your profession?"

"I'm a doctor,"

"Of what?"

"Psychology,"

"Children's Psychology?"

"No,"

"What's your degree?"

"Psychology,"

"When did you graduate?"

"In 1988,"

"Do you enjoy your profession?"

"Yes,"

"Why do you enjoy it?"

"It's interesting,"

"That's a vague answer. Why do you enjoy your line of work specifically?"

"I like helping people,"

"How noble," said Carmen grimly, as though she didn't believe him. "Do you have any children?"

"No,"

"Why not?"

"I don't know,"

"Do you want children?"

"No,"

"Are you married?"

"No,"

"Family?"

"Mother. Father. Brother. Six cousins. Aunt. Uncle-"

"Okay, enough. I _really_ don't need your whole family, Francis,"said Carmen, waving a hand impatiently. But now she really needed to crack down on him. Personal questions were coming too directly and nothing she needed to know was coming through. Leaning in, she pressed just a little harder on the walls of his mind and saw him begin to sweat in turn.

It was necessary to do this. Dangerous though, considering the long term effects this could have on him. But Carmen was almost positive that this man was more than he appeared. He had called her subhuman after all. She hadn't spent the last month watching him for no reason.

And she wouldn't come tonight, of all nights if she absolutely didn't need to. It was dangerous for her kind to be out at night. It was dangerous for her kind to be out at all these days.

"Is this a private practice?"

"Yes,"

"Who do you work for?"

"I graduated from-"

"I didn't ask where you went to school. I asked who you work for,"

"My Employer,"

"Who's your Employer?"

"I don't know,"

She cocked an eyebrow. "You don't know or you don't want to tell me?"

"He has no name,"

"You're sure he's a he?"

"Yes,"

"What has your employer ordered you to do?"

"He has not ordered me,"

"You're here of your own free will?"

"I...Yes,"

The answer came with a struggle. He was clearly fighting her hold on his mind and answering with a lie. Of course.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes,"

"You don't need to lie to me, Francis. I **will** find out the truth. One way or another,"

It wasn't a question. He didn't answer.

"Why are you treating Sam Costigan?"

"I was told to,"

"By whom?"

"His parents,"

"Who are his parents?"

"Estelle and Mark Costigan,"

"What are they like?"

"Fine. Simple. Religious,"

"Are they his real parents?"

"No,"

"How do you know?"

"They don't look like him,"

"What does that matter?"

"He doesn't have any true lineage,"

A frown creased Carmen's features. "Why do you say that?"

"Because he is not of this world,"

Well, that was direct. But then again, he would never give this information out freely. She was pressing Will upon his brain with unbreakable force but she had to be careful otherwise she could crush the fragile walls of his mind with too much ease.

"Why do you say he is not of this world? What makes you so sure?"

The question was too complicated. Either it was too much to answer, and he's got many theories on the subject or he honestly cannot answer through some other means. Experience told her to assume the worst. She could only assume that this information was forbidden for him to speak of.

She'd have to tread carefully otherwise, he'll go braindead. What a tragedy.

"Let's try something else," Carmen suggested, speaking to herself.

He blinked as though gaining some clarity, shaking his head. One look at her, and recognition crossed his features. He grabbed the vase off the end of his table and lunged forward to strike her. She caught his wrist but the vase shook in his grip and black liquid poured down her wrist and arm.

Unlike water, this seemed to seep into her flesh and disappear altogether. She threw the vase of red flowers away from her and watched it smash against the wall.

She felt a searing sensation where the black water had vanished, trailing all the way down her shoulder and straight up her neck where it seemed to slither into her eyes. She didn't know what she looked like on the outside until she got an idea by looking at her hand. A fine trail of veins burned red up to her knuckles.

"What did you put in me?" Carmen nearly growled, her free hand caught his throat in an iron grip, choking him.

"St...Sti..."

She loosened her hold just an inch.

"Stig...matus...Inf...,"

"Stigma," She uttered it like a curse word and dropped him to his seat where he started to choke and rub his throat. But she could only imagine she was going to be feeling much worse than him pretty soon. There was no known cure for contracting Stigmatus Inferno. It was the disease that destroyed demons from the inside out. It started through the nerves then traveled all the way to heart where the organ eventually either failed or exploded, depending on how much Stigma was put into the system.

And this wasn't a lot. But that didn't mean she wasn't infected.

This certainly didn't bode well.

Carmen scratched her shoulder distractedly.

"It's over for you now, subhuman," said Walker unexpectedly when he could talk and Carmen's eyes snapped on him with venom. "They're coming for you."

"Aww, he hash a back up pwan?" Carmen retorted in a baby voice. "That's so cute. That's fucking adorable."

But he brought up a valid point. If people were coming, she was screwed. Well, not if she got out in time. But this idiot. She had to kill him. No question about that.

But who said anything about doing it now?

"Ever traveled with a demon?" Carmen asked. "Rhetorical. Come on."

She took him by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him with surprising strength off his chair and proceeded to drag him towards the door. He wasn't under her spell any longer so her fought. Violently. Before Carmen passed the desk, she found a large stack of papers with Sam's name written in the corner and a large textbook underneath it. She picked it all up. Whoever was coming, hopefully didn't know of Walker's interest in Sam and they didn't need to know either. She tucked it underneath her arm uncomfortably.

Walker was struggling, nails digging into her arms, especially when she took his files. Sensitive.

But he showed no further resistance when he slammed him against the side of the door, no doubt giving him a severe concussion. Hopefully that wouldn't matter when she got him out of here.

She was just outside when a white van pulled up and Carmen released the doctor and shoved him aside. Reaching behind her, she found a firm grip on the hilt of her sword which made the undecipherable symbols turn red from the touch on the blade.

The passenger window rolled down and she found herself looking at a figure in shadow. A familiar male voice spoke out. "My. Not very subtle are you?"

Carmen released her grip on her weapon but her gaze grew cold. "What do you want? I told you I could handle this on my own."

"Taking an unconscious prisoner was not my idea of a job well done...Carmen,"

"Oh hush it, Gabriel. You want to help, why don't you help me load him in?" said Carmen irritably, already walking around to the two doors, dragging Walker along.

The Archangel exited the car. The last years hadn't changed Gabriel too much. He still had shoulder length brown hair and the immortality was certainly a perk in showing he hadn't aged. At least Carmen looked semi different with maturity. Gabriel's choice of clothing had changed somewhat. He had always looked young. He looked like he could fit as a college graduate at most. It was only his nature that made him seem more adult. So him wearing a simple cotton white t-shirt and blue jeans was odd.

Well, he was trying to blend in and to someone who didn't know him, maybe he did. To Carmen, it was kind of funny seeing him out of layers of denim like a teacher.

He helped Carmen load Walker into the back and let the man lay unconscious on his side while they closed the doors at the same time. It was pretty spacious back there...and clearly this wasn't the first time Carmen had done this.

"Tell me something. In what universe is kidnapping the doctor the good plan? Didn't think this through did you, Carmen? You're too much like your father," said Gabriel exasperatedly.

Carmen rolled her eyes as she climbed into the passenger seat. "How is that a bad thing?"

"Because he was reckless," said Gabriel as he slammed his door closed and climbed in as well, throwing her a slightly disapproving look. " He didn't exactly abide by rules either. And look where that got him."

Was that last statement necessary? Carmen's eyes narrowed. "I brought him because he's bringing backup. We don't have a lot of time. Park the car around the building...I bugged his office. If there's anything we can learn from them, it's probably when they walk in."

Rather than complimenting her foresight, Gabriel sighed in a long, exaggerated way and swirled the van around to blend into the shadows. Truly, they were lucky it was late and that this building was closed off at night with minimal security. The clock ticked eleven. Whatever guard was watching the building must have been asleep. He(if he was there at all) didn't even pay mind to the noise that Carmen had made with Walker earlier. So much for doing your job right.

"We should be leaving," said Gabriel insistently. "Why did you bring him along? I told you to investigate. Not capture."

"Because he's got a hard mental block up and I can't break through it. I hit him hard. He should be out for a few hours...which gives us some time to interrogate some more later...Maybe he'll be warmer on you than he was on me...He managed to say a _few_ things though that caught my attention though...Otherwise I wouldn't have even bothered. Very...interesting things," said Carmen sharply, throwing the files she stole onto the dashboard where they slid all the way to the interior windshield with a loud thud from the book underneath.

Gabriel's eyes turned to the files. "Oh yeah? What was that? And what are those?"

"Guess we'll find out. Read the side," said Carmen simply, pointing out the written "Sam Costigan" letters penned on the divider. "I was getting to that. Looks like the good doctor knows Sam isn't human."

"Sam _is_ human," Gabriel answered, eyes on the road as he parked in the furthest corner. Carmen was surprised they weren't out of range for the bug she planted to actually work.

"He said differently,"

Gabriel frowned. "He's wrong. His power was taken when Lucifer came back to life. He's more human than either of us, that's for sure. There's absolutely no reason for them to believe otherwise"

Carmen looked over her shoulder where a small metal grate was displaying the unconscious doctor. "That's not what he said. He specifically said that Sam was not of this world."

"Who cares what he said?"Gabriel snapped, cutting off the engine. "He's wrong."

"You know he seems to know a lot. I've had this office bugged for nearly a year now...You should hear some of the things I hear,"

"That's illegal," said Gabriel, his eyebrows furrowing. "But what have you heard?"

"I'm above the law," said Carmen easily. "But just a lot of things...I'd hardly consider Sam human when I just saw two angels watching him before I arrived."

"What?" Gabriel was alert. "Where? When? Why?"

"Slow down," said Carmen, shrugging. "They were just there. Watching. Then one went into his house."

"Did you hear what they were talking about?" Gabriel asked desperately. "Could you identify either of them? What did they say? Why didn't you tell me this at the beginning? Why didn't you pursue?"

"Angels. Demon. I know when I'm outnumbered. Besides, it was Castiel...He's harmless," Carmen answered lightly.

"You chose to follow Walker instead of them. Castiel went inside? What did he do?"

"You know, I honestly don't know. This guy's bigger fish. The whole purpose was to lure _them_ out, right? I was sticking to the plan," Carmen explained. "You wanted me to get what we could out of this guy...well I think we'll do a fine job with him in the back."

"I'm not used to taking prisoners," Gabriel muttered.

"Get used to it, then. You're working with a demon. I take it that means desperation," A beguiling smile spread across her face while Gabriel glowered daggers at her.

Kidding aside, Carmen was actually starting to feel the effects of the Stigma now. She began to scratch her arm, her shoulders. The irritating feeling was spreading and it felt so ingrained in her skin that it was impossible to simply scratch it away with nails. Usually Stigma was more direct. It just killed you.

Within minutes.

"Ah,"Carmen murmured after a moment, rubbing her forehead. Slow but building, a throbbing sensation was starting around her temples. It was hard to ignore. Her heart beat pounded in her ears and blood pumped at a rapid rate. Demons already had high heat signatures...but this was ridiculously painful, even for her.

"What's wrong with you?" Gabriel's voice seemed to come from far away.

Adrenaline staved off most of these side effects. Now she was paying the price for being reckless. If he knew, he'd laugh out loud.

"Stress," Carmen lied. If it was only stress.

"Huh. I didn't think demons felt stress," Gabriel mused. "You going to interrogate the prisoner? That might make you feel better."

"He's not waking up for a while. I hit him hard, I told you," said Carmen, scratching at her shoulder. "It feels like my blood is boiling."

Gabriel turned to her, scrutinized her real hard. "You were infected." His tone had no inflection, no emphasis. Even his eyes were as empty as his words.

"Yeah," No point in lying when she couldn't ignore it.

"How do you feel?"And he reached over to touch her forehead which she dodged with ease. Gabriel scowled. "If you're in pain, I can hold it off for you. But I am surprised. Stigma usually kills its victims instantly."

"I'm so glad to be an exception," Carmen growled, scratching her wrist with hard nails. "God...what is wrong with me? It wasn't hurting just a moment ago."

"Maybe...," Gabriel mused, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Maybe what? What?" Carmen persisted. " What is it?"

"Nothing. Forget it...You want my help?"

"No," Carmen snapped.

"Okay then," said Gabriel, shrugging. "Can't say I didn't offer you. And can't say I didn't warn you either. I told you it was going to be dangerous. I told you it might not be the best avenue,"

"It's our _only_ avenue," said Carmen. "Stop focusing on me. Focus on them, will you? They should be here any moment now.'

"I wonder if you're not wholly affected by the Stigma because of your pure heart," said Gabriel. It was clear he was dying to say this. This guy had been on this planet too long. It made him old and senile. It made him talk out loud when no one else around him really cared. And he didn't care either.

"Whatever," said Carmen.

"Hold on," Gabriel suddenly sat up straight in his seat, eyes darting wildly out the windshield like he was an animal suddenly aware that someone had trod in on their territory.

He turned the key into the ignition and began to back the van up away from the tall lights shining down on them. Carmen knew instantly who or what he had sensed and she drew out a long black device that was beeping red. She pressed a button on the side and instantly heard static. Because he was moving. She was about to tell him to stop but then she heard rustling...Not from inside the car,but from the device in her hand. Yep, they were here.

The van remained silent for a long time. You could hear a pin drop. It was December too, and the wind should have been blowing at phenomenally cold speeds but the air went cold and still.

More rustling. Gabriel leaned in. A door opened from inside the office, creaking slightly along the way.

They weren't speaking and didn't for a long while. Maybe they were communicating with their eyes what happened. Really, she didn't feel like she had made a mess. But there was enough evidence to say that at least _something_ happened. Shattered vase, perhaps the missing items off the desk was a big sign. Maybe everyone was privvy to the files she stole on Sam.

"So...this is interesting," said a gruff male voice with a heavy southern accent. "Looks like our doctor was nabbed."

"Yeah," said another male voice, more subdued. Polite if you heard him on the phone.

"Looks like the Doctor made it out of here," said the first male. They could assume he was the one walking around now, surveying the surroundings better.

"Or he was taken," said the second male. "You don't hit an alarm for nothing...That signal had a boost radius that we caught. Seems like Walker was in trouble."

"The plant's busted," said the first male. "Oh yeah...He was taken...But there's not much sign of a struggle."

There was a heavy sigh as the second male responded. "The Boss isn't going to be happy about this."

Boss. Employer. What, were these guys brainwashed or something?

"You're telling me," said the first male. "But he's been going by a little brown paper so I mean who knows what he's going to say?"

"I haven't seen him in a few weeks," the second male admitted. "Maybe he doesn't have to know."

"Are you kidding? This was a priority one. Someone has to be here as long as the kid's living in this area,"

So everyone who was anyone knew about Sam. Just who were these guys and what did they want? Humans taking action? Well, that was hardly news. Since Carmen had been travelling with Gabriel, she had learned a few things. This wasn't the first time that humans took up arms against a demon invasion and this definitely wasn't the first demon invasion in history. They had come before, more swiftly, more ruthless. This time, they came a little more subtly because not all of them were parading around the news with human heads on pikes. But wiping out a city was enough to draw the attention of mankind.

Gabriel had called them hunters. Demon Hunters to be more specific. They weren't just biased towards demons either. Anything with an irregular heartbeat, anything that remotely screamed supernatural to them was on their kill list.

But the hunters were tailing Sam. Why was that?

How could they know he was part of what happened so many years ago? Besides, like Gabriel said, he was human...but they didn't seem to think so.

No doubt, someone was feeding this band of hunters some information. Wrong information? Maybe. But they had a head honcho somewhere and Carmen wasn't going to stop tailing _them_ until she figured out who that was. Sam may have been just a boy, but he was important to her. Important enough that he didn't need to be involved in this kind of crap anymore. Not with _him_ dead. Not when he had nothing to do with it anymore.

Gabriel was still listening while Carmen had momentarily tuned out the conversation to scratch on her lower left side. Damn that infection. How long was it going to be before it spread all over and she was a bawling mess, scratching away at flesh and muscle?

Forget about that. Don't think about the itching. Don't think about bleeding skin. Just focus.

"You know him," said the first male in a bored voice. "He's all obsessed with the scripture these days."

At this, Gabriel stiffened in the driver's seat and Carmen's attention snapped onto him momentarily.

"What?" She asked in a sharp voice. "What? What's wrong?"

He silenced her with a look and gazed back at the black device in her hand as though it were his lifeline.

"Oh yeah, I know," said the second one. "I'm not even sure what the hell a blank piece of paper can do for you...but whatever floats your boat..." A long pause. "...Well I guess we better report this back to the boss...even if he's only half-listening to these damn reports."

"I have a feeling telling him priority one has gone missing will be enough. Who knows. Maybe Doc got drunk and hit the alarm by mistake. He may call in after he crawls back to the office," said the first one coolly.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same guy?" the other guy laughed. You could hear them more at a distance now. Footsteps. They were leaving. You'd think they'd do a more thorough search of the office for any signs of Walker. But it was clear these two were just routine guys in the area.

"You're right...Better go directly. He's not gonna be happy about this one,"

No doubt about it though, they were going to be following them. If head honcho was somewhere nearby, they needed to get there. Now.

More footsteps and then the conversation between the two became muffled.

Carmen slowly turned to Gabriel. "Wanna tell me why you're sitting like someone just bit your cock?"

"We're following them," said Gabriel sharply.

"Yeah, no shit," said Carmen. "I figured we'd do that. But what the hell was that? You got all stiff when they mentioned something about a...scripture?"

"Hold on," Gabriel murmured, and he wrapped his fingers around the key and waited for a long moment until a truck came into view briefly under the lights before driving off into the neighborhood. Then Gabriel started up the car and proceeded to follow.

"Answers, please?" Carmen asked impatiently.

Gabriel sighed. "The scripture...I've heard it before...I'm not surprised they have their greedy little hands on it...well actually I am surprised...It's called the Scripture of the Messiah...If I'm correct, they're talking about the same one." A look of puzzlement touched his features. "But last I heard...it was destroyed...No, it couldn't be?"

He seemed to be talking to himself more now. Carmen had to wave him back to reality. "Um...If it was destroyed...then how do you know they're talking about the same one?"

"Because it was in human hands last time...and like before...we had to fight to get it back. It's a holy artifact. A very powerful holy artifact...If it's still in existence then we can't waste any time. We have to get it back," To emphasize his meaning, Gabriel pressed down on the gas to accelerate. "I would fly...but as it is, we must keep a low profile if we are to succeed on this mission."

"Mission? All right, Wings. Calm down. Let's just stay under the speed limit, shall we?" said Carmen sarcastically. "What's _on_ the artifact that's so important?"

"It's...It's...hard to explain. The Messiah Scripture was created long ago...It's embedded with powerful Will Magic that existed far long before anything existed on this plane. It was said that God himself created it. It's...kind of like a physical archive of past, present and future events...In the right hands...or the wrong hands, it's an extremely powerful weapon," Gabriel looked to her, pausing for what she couldn't guess for anything else but dramatic effect. "It's said the person who holds it, holds the world in their hands."

"And you've seen it before?" Carmen prompted.

"I've known of it's location before...I've never seen it personally," said Gabriel with a frown.

"When did you hear about it's location?"

"Five years ago."

"How?"

"We all knew...We were meant to keep it safe...We were meant to keep it from falling into the wrong hands...That was one of our primary duties part of the legion was to protect the Scripture even at the cost of our lives...and then..."

Carmen could feel the story coming on and her curiosity bit. "And then?"

"I'll tell you," Gabriel promised. "I wager the humans don't have it here if they consider Sam a threat...it must be past these state lines. We have a long way to go, kid. Good time for me to make up on lost time telling you. They called protecting Sam priority one, so let me tell you that this is now _our _priority one. Be prepared for the worst."


End file.
